Secrets and Lies
by Penelope-Jane-Avalon
Summary: No man reaches adulthood without making mistakes and Arthur is no exception. In 'Secrets and Lies' a mistake Arthur made when he was only 16 years old, comes back to haunt him with devastating consequences


Secrets and Lies

Arthur kicked angrily, at a battered shield lying in the corner of the training ground. Despite the best efforts of the court physician, who had expertly reset his broken bone, Arthur's wrist throbbed. He had only injured it, the previous day and although his wrist would mend, it would be too late for Arthur.

The Autumn Tournament was due to begin in only two days time and already Camelot was filing with challengers from around the country. Desperate to compete in the tournament, for more than an hour, Arthur had been practicing holding his sword in left hand, but any fool could see that it was pointless.

He could swing his sword, but his thrusts and parries were not accurate, nor were they quick enough. He could think of half a dozen men and boys who would beat him now. Thus, far from winning the tournament, which had been his ambition, he would probably come an embarrassing last and his father would be furious.

Arthur swore and threw his sword on the ground. A newly promoted knight, Sir Leon, frowned at Arthur's behaviour, but it was not his place to admonish the crown prince. Leon had recently been put in charge of the training ground and having watched Arthur practicing his craft for months, he could understand the young man's frustration. He picked up the sword and put it in the rack with the other training weapons.

Arthur did not thank him. He was far too fed up to notice. Having honed his skills to perfection, he would have to suffer the ignominy of having his name removed from the lists. He had wasted hours of his time for nothing.

Arthur heard a noise behind him. As he turned, the sun blinded him for a moment. Then he recognised Turgot, grinning amiably as he climbed onto the fence that surrounded the training ground.

Turgot slouched on the top most bar of the fence and asked Arthur,

"Want to get out of here and do some hunting or something? You're obviously not going to be able to compete."

"Who says I can't compete?" answered Arthur, contrarily. He wasn't going to let anyone else tell him what to do.

Turgot shrugged.

"Well you might be able to swing a sword in your left hand, but I very much doubt if you'll actually hit anything. Same applies to a lance. Face facts, Arthur, if you try and compete you'll just be a laughing stock."

Turgot's eyes narrowed.

"I'm sure I can think of much better things to do than make a fool of myself in front of all the visiting dignitaries."

He grinned again and held up a small glass bottle, half filled with a dark viscous liquid.

"This my royal friend, promises hours of fun."

Despite himself, Arthur's interest was piqued.

"What is it?"

"Happiness in a bottle! You add it to Mead or Ale and for a while all your cares are forgotten."

"Sorcery?" Arthur's eyes flashed in annoyance.

Turgot shook his head.

"No! Of course not! It's made from poppies. Any apothecary could probably make it. Some of them sell it for the relief of pain, but I know it makes you feel great…invincible…..fantastic!"

Once more Arthur found himself unable to maintain his indifference. If nothing else, 'the relief of pain' sounded promising.

He walked to the gate and exited the training enclosure.

Turgot jumped of the fence and walked with him.

"Come on them," he urged, "Let's get out of here."

As they were leading their horses out of the stable block, Turgot's sister, Eostre came hurrying towards them.

She grinned at her brother.

"She's coming. I told her mother that we were going down to the Harvest Market in the lower town. My aunt was only too glad to be rid of us. She has a headache and with their journey to the Emerald Isle only two days away, all she wants to do is rest."

Arthur looked questioningly at Eostre.

While Turgot was blond and blue-eyed like Arthur, Eostre had fiery red hair and slanted green eyes. She reminded Arthur of a cat and although he tried hard to conceal it, he always found her presence vaguely unsettling.

She had a way of staring at him with her extraordinary eyes that gave him butterflies in his stomach, that made him want to reach out and touch her red mane of hair, even though he was pretty sure that he did not actually like her at all.

Eostre answered his unspoken question.

"My cousin, Faylinn and my Aunt Breena are staying in Camelot. Faylinn is on her way to be married to Lord Finan. She's not too happy about it, so I think we should make sure that she enjoys herself, today, don't you?'

Arthur scowled.

"We were going hunting. Haven't you got any 'girly' things you can do?'

Eostre scowled back.

"You know I don't do 'girly' things. But just for today, Faylinn and I will make the fire while you and Turgot hunt. Then we can have a picnic and enjoy some of Turgot's poppy juice. Do you have a problem with that…Your Majesty?"

Arthur winced inwardly. He knew that as Prince of the realm, he was entitled to respect from all of Camelot's subjects, but somehow Turgot and Eostre always managed to make him feel petty, if he insisted on being addressed as protocol demanded. Thus, when they were alone, they all used first names and the brother and sister treated him as just another one of their friends.

Their father was one of the lesser ranking knights, but any perceived lack of status appeared to have no effect on the way either of them behaved. Quite simply they both acted as if the world owed them a living.

"Oh one other thing," said Eostre, as she led two horses from the stables.

"I haven't told her who you are. She's one of those nervous types, who would probably tell her mother straight away that she had spent the day with a prince, and I'm sure you don't want your father to know what you've been doing…do you? I've told her your name is Artirius and that you are the son of the Master of the Guard. Artirius is close enough to Arthur, just in case one of us forgets and starts to blurt out your real name."

"Very thoughtful of you," muttered Arthur, although he was glad of the subterfuge. He had told his father that he would be training in the morning and in the afternoon, he would be studying in the castle library. Uther wanted a son who was both a great warrior and a competent scholar. He did not believe in giving Arthur time to do as he pleased.

In the lower town, they brought their horses to a stop outside the largest tavern in the town, The Black Horse. It was a stone, building, three stories high and it boasted the finest rooms, outside the castle walls.

Eostre hurried through the front door and returned minutes later with a tall slender girl with long blond hair.

As the introductions were made, Faylinn smiled shyly at Arthur. Until that moment, Arthur had been genuinely annoyed that anyone else had been invited along for his clandestine day off, but now he found himself definitely changing his mind. Faylinn was startlingly pretty and yet she did not seem to have any of the arrogance of her two cousins. This day was looking up.

They rode deep into the woods and when they found a suitable clearing, near a stream, they all dismounted and tethered the horses. While the girls laid out the blankets and collected firewood, Arthur and Turgot, went off on foot to hunt for rabbit and wild boar. Faylinn seemed vaguely uncomfortable to be left without the protection of Arthur and Turgot, but Eostre dismissed her concerns with a toss of her head.

She drew a short sword from the scabbard on her belt.

"We don't need those two, to keep us safe. I'm easily as good with this as they are."

"But what about bandits or….." began Faylinn.

"We are too close to Camelot, to worry about that. All this land belongs to the castle and Uther takes a very dim of anyone trespassing on his property. These woods are strictly for the use of the nobility and the royal family. We have nothing to fear. Now help me get some more wood, so that when the boys get back we can have the fire going."

Arthur and Turgot soon returned with four large rabbits. Turgot immediately set to work gutting and skinning them, while Arthur fed the fire and constructed a spit on which to roast the meat.

Had he been with any of the other knights or squires, Arthur would have done nothing, but secretly he quite enjoyed learning how to take care of himself in the wild. One day, he thought, such skills might come in very handy.

When the meal was ready they sat round the fire and enjoyed the succulent meat with bread and apples.

Turgot unstrapped a small keg from his horse's saddle and handed round drinking horns filled with Mead.

He winked at Arthur.

"I hope you all enjoy this," he said, "it is the finest Mead money can buy and my special additions, will make it even better."

Faylinn looked at him questioningly.

"What additions?" she asked.

"Oh just stuff to make it taste nicer. Go on taste it and tell me what you think."

He took a long drink from his own horn and Eostre and Arthur followed suit.

"This is delicious," admitted Arthur, taking another gulp.

Encouraged by his comment, Faylinn began to drink too.

As he drank some more, Arthur waited for the throbbing in his wrist to dissipate and he was not disappointed. In only a few minutes, he was pain free. A few minutes later, he felt positively euphoric and eagerly accepted a top up from Turgot.

As Arthur continued to drink, he found that sitting up was just too much trouble and he slid down until he was flat on his back on the rug they had laid out for their picnic.

Beside him, he was vaguely aware that Faylinn, Eostre and Turgot were all lying on the rug as well.

He closed his eyes, a pleasant feeling of weightlessness taking over his whole body. He was not sure if he was lying down or floating in the air.

Something touched his face and he opened his eyes to see Eostre's green cat eyes gazing down at him. Her fiery hair was trailing down over his cheeks and her red lips were descending towards his own. He sighed and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the eyes looking down at him were blue and the hair he pushed to one side was golden blond.

"Faylinn?" he asked woozily.

A voice shushed him and he let himself drift away again. He felt so good and when he opened his eyes again the whole world seemed to be suffused with colour. The leaves and pine needles were no longer green. Instead they were the colours of the rainbow and as Arthur focused on one dazzling colour, it seemed to dissolve into another. He felt hands on his skin, but he could not discern exactly where and neither did he care. For the first time in days, he was totally pain free and everything around him was just wonderful.

Eyelashes as soft as butterfly wings caressed his cheeks and he tasted salt like tears falling like soft rain on his face. Green eyes looked down. Blue eyes looked up and he felt skin like silk beneath his fingers. Everything glittered and shone. Nothing seemed real. It was a world of dreams.

Afterwards

Arthur opened his eyes, slowly. The muted sunlight streaming through the trees seemed incredibly bright and he lifted his hand to shield himself from the glare. He put out a hand to push himself up from his prone position and grunted in discomfort when he realised he was using his injured wrist. He rolled onto his side and dragged himself up into a sitting position.

On one side of him lay Turgot, his shirt scrunched up under his armpits, revealing his stomach. His belt was undone and one of his boots was lying on the ground several feet away.

On the other side lay Faylinn. Both her shoes lay off to one side and her hair seemed to be full of leaves and twigs. To say she looked 'dishevelled' would have been an understatement.

Arthur glanced down at his own clothing. His shirt was outside his trousers and his clothes were dusty as if he had been lying on the bare ground. His belt too was undone and when he tried to fasten it, his hands felt as if he was wearing thick gloves.

There was a thickness in his head too and he shook it as if he could dislodge the fog that seemed to be dulling all recollection of what he had been doing.

Soon enough he realised that Eostre was missing, but then he saw her, sitting some distance away, leaning up against a tree. She was twirling a small leafy branch in her hands, watching the play of light and shade in the dappled light.

When she saw that Arthur was awake, she got to her feet and walked over to the blanket.

"We should probably think about getting back to the castle," she said. "Everyone will start to wonder where we are if we don't get back before the gates close."

She put out a foot and prodded her brother. He awoke slowly with a drowsy grin on his face.

"That," he said, "was absolutely excellent." He punched Arthur in the shin.

"Enjoy yourself?" he asked.

Arthur had no idea how to reply. He had a dreadful sinking feeling that he had done something he should not have done and yet try as he might, he just could not get a clear picture in his mind of what any of them had been doing in the preceding hours. And it had to be hours, because the sun was low in the sky and soon it would be time for the torches to be lit in the castle.

He stood up and scratched his head. It did not feel safe to reply to Turgot's enquiry until he could remember just exactly what he might, or might not have, enjoyed.

Eostre was already shaking Faylinn awake and as the girl stumbled to her feet, Arthur could see that she was as confused as he was. Only the brother and sister seemed totally in possession of all their faculties.

As Eostre started to gather up the blanket and drinking horns and what was left of the food, Faylinn stood swaying against her horse. Her face was white and her expression somewhere between alarm and confusion. Arthur wished he could think of something to say to her to reassure her, but even as he wondered what to say, he realised that he could not really remember anything clearly. What had they done? Had they actually….!? Oh, he really HOPED they had not. He scoured his memories again but came up with nothing but blurred images, which neither confirmed his fears nor refuted them.

"You….you have leaves in your hair," he began and reached out to pull a twig from behind Faylinn's ear. She shrank away from him, tears springing in her eyes.

"Don't," she muttered. "Don't touch me. Take me back. Take me back now! I want to go back to my mother."

With that she began to cry and clumsily remount her horse.

Turgot was already astride his.

"I don't know what you are crying for. You seemed pretty happy to me, earlier on. We're going back anyway, so stop crying. Come on Sister."

Eostre mounted her horse effortlessly and the brother and sister led the way out of the clearing and back onto the trail that led to the town.

Arthur, still confused, but rapidly becoming, angry, followed them.

"What did you really put in the Mead?" he hissed as he drew his horse level with Turgot's.

Turgot gave him a sly smile. "Exactly what I told you and don't tell me you didn't like it, because I won't believe you. You were grinning like a cat who'd just caught the biggest mouse in the castle. As for our little cousin, well she enjoyed herself too. She couldn't take her eyes off you from the moment she saw you. Trust me, you made her very happy."

"What the hell do you mean?"

"What do you think I mean? You're a man now Arthur, so start behaving like one. She'll be gone the day after tomorrow and you'll never see her again. She'll be married before the end of the month and far away across the sea."

"You mean I….?"

Turgot rolled his eyes and grinned at his sister, who had slowed her horse so that she could listen to their conversation.

"Says he doesn't remember, Sister."

Eostre laughed. "That's a shame." She fixed Arthur with her cat like eyes.

"I remember ALL of it Arthur. Want me to tell you about it, because I can, IF you want me to."

Arthur felt himself go crimson. He should say something. He should put both these upstarts in their place. He was 'the crown prince'. They were just the children of some lowly knight.

But Arthur said nothing. He watched them ride on ahead and waited for Faylinn to catch up. She was still crying and he did not know what to do.

"Please," he muttered, urgently, "please stop crying. We have to get back to the castle before it gets dark."

As he spoke he looked up at the sky. It was already cobalt blue and it would be dark in no time at all.

The sobbing girl did nothing to urge her horse on and Arthur reached out to grab the bridle.

"Why?" she asked, finally, "why did you have to do that? My honour…..it is lost. How can I marry? If Lord Finan should discover what has happened today, he will never marry me. I will be disgraced forever!"

"Why should he ever find out about anything that's happened?" asked Arthur. "Doesn't he reside on the Emerald Isle?"

Faylinn looked at him with distain. "Do you really need to ask that question? Even now, I could be …I could be….there could be a child!"

Arthur felt his cheeks flushing again. How on earth had he got himself into this situation? Thanks to Turgot, he had no real idea of what had or had not taken place. Again, he tried to recall something concrete from the previous hours, but everything was vague and confused. The only thing he thought he could, but after that, he had no idea how far things had gone. Faylinn however seemed to have no doubts.

She was crying again now, and Arthur tried to reach out for her hand. She recoiled from his touch.

"What can I do? Where can I go? You have ruined me!"

Arthur looked up the track for Eostre and Turgot, but they were nowhere to be seen. It seemed that this was his problem and he alone would have to deal with it.

Without thinking, he pulled a gold ring from his little finger. It had been one of the many gifts from his naming day and he had worn it since his fingers had grown large enough to keep it on. As the years passed and he grew, so the ring had changed fingers until it would only fit his little finger and even then it was tight.

As he tugged it off, it grazed his knuckle, but he barely noticed. He held it out to the sobbing girl.

"Please," he said, "take my ring. If there are…er… consequences from this day, if your betrothed will not marry you, then, then… I will and with this ring I give you my promise."

Faylinn stopped crying and stared at the ring. It was made of thick gold and engraved and enamelled with a red dragon. Tentatively she took it from him.

"You would marry me?"

Arthur nodded. "I would," he confirmed, trying hard to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"But you are just the son of the captain of the guards. My father is a wealthy knight and I have been betrothed to Lord Finan since I was ten years old. Lord Finan has paid a huge bride price for my hand. I could never marry you."

"But if he were to turn you away, at least you could come to me and I could care for you…..as a last resort, perhaps?"

Faylinn appeared to consider this.

"You mean if my family turned me out? I suppose, if your family would allow it…"

Arthur knew that his father would 'allow' no such thing, but if the worst came to the worst, well they would just have to leave Camelot together. He would never be king, but right at this moment, he really didn't care. He never got the impression that his father thought he was any good at anything. In fact his father always made him feel inadequate. Faylinn was a very pretty girl and if he had indeed ruined all her chances and dishonoured her, then the best thing he could do was at least stand up to his responsibilities and try and make amends. After all, most of his friends would be delighted to snare such a lovely looking bride.

"Like yours," he conceded, "my father has his own plans for me, but do we always have to do what our parents demand? Maybe sometimes we have to do what is right for us."

Faylinn's sad face seemed to brighten a little.

"You would really go against your father's wishes, for me?" she asked.

Arthur took a deep breath and answered.

"I make this promise to you now. If there are…..consequences from today's er….picnic and if as a result, your betrothed turns you away, I WILL marry you. My ring is a guarantee of my promise."

"But how will I get word to you, if I need you? I do not even know where you live."

"I erm…I have a room in the castle. But the best way to find me is to send a message to Gaius, the court physician. I have known him all my life and he is a good and a kind man. He is also a discreet one and if I warn him that I may hear from you, he will get any message to me that you may wish to send. If the worst should come to the worst and you need money to reach me, then sell the ring."

Faylinn rubbed her fingers over the thick gold band. She was quite surprised that the son of the captain of the guards had such an expensive piece of jewellery, but the mere fact that he would give it to her made her feel much better.

If luck were on her side, she could put this day out of her mind forever. If not, then she had something to fall back on.

She studied the face of the young man in front of her. He was very handsome and his eyes were full of concern for her. Earlier, she had thought him arrogant and rather too like her cousin Turgot. But now she could see a different side to him.

She leant forward and planted a clumsy kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, Artirius," she said, "you at least are an honest person. I will only come to you, if I have no other choice, but thank you, thank you for your promise."

She tugged on the reigns of her horse and set off up the forest track back towards Camelot. Arthur followed, a sick and hollow feeling in his stomach.

What had he done? By all the gods, he hoped that the day's events had not been the worst mistake of his life.

In the weeks and months that followed, as soon as his wrist was healed, Arthur threw himself into training. He spent every last minute sparring on the training ground, until there was no one he could not beat. He ceased to spend time with Turgot and his sister and gradually Turgot's position as leader, of the squires and the young knights, was taken by Arthur.

In short, Arthur had changed. He was determined to be the author of his own achievements and mistakes and as a result he became harder and more focused.

He bitterly regretted ever allowing Turgot to get him a situation that could have changed his life forever and he vowed never again would he do anything, unless he was fully in command of all his faculties.

As the months went by and there was no word from Faylinn, Arthur began to relax. Eventually he found that he could forget about 'the picnic' entirely and he began to enjoy life again.

Uthor was pleased to see the change in his son. He had always thought Arthur too soft and too timid. Now, his son walked with a swagger and the youngsters who lived in the citadel all walked in his shadow. Finally Uthor thought, Arthur was showing the qualities needed to become a strong and fearless leader.

What Arthur had in fact become, was something of a bully. He had overcompensated for his previous rather quiet and introverted character and taken on a persona, which he thought made him more worthy of respect. He no longer allowed even the boys closest to him to call him by his first name and made sure that all of them stepped aside for him whenever and wherever it was required.

And things would have probably have gone on this way had not a strange young man arrived in Camelot, a young man who would teach Arthur what was really needed to be not just a good king but a great one, indeed the greatest King the Five Kingdoms would ever know.

23 years later

Morgana Pendragon, moved stealthily through the darkness. The night was all consuming as it had been raining for days and thick clouds blocked the light of the moon and the stars.

The sorceress preferred the darkness, for it hid her from her enemies and the blackness of the night was no obstacle to her progress. A faint green glow hung around the feet of her horse and lit the muddy ground. The village street, along which she travelled, was deserted, but her appearance was so altered that it was doubtful many would have recognised her.

Indeed everyone thought her dead, killed by Merlin after the battle of Camlan.

To be fair, Merlin HAD killed her, running her through with a sword, forged in a dragon's breath. But Merlin's focus had been on Arthur, gravely wounded and close to death himself. As soon as he had run her through, he had dragged Arthur away leaving Morgana bleeding in the mud.

It had been a mistake.

Like Merlin himself, Morgana possessed great magic and as a high priestess of the The Old Religion, a mortal wound was not necessarily the end of her.

While her body was still warm, Morgana's magical spirit clung to it. She would not go into the world of the dead without a fight. But as her body cooled, her grip loosened and she heard in the strengthening wind, the cries of the damned coming closer and closer and calling her name.

Terror had gripped Morgana. Shadows were surrounding her and ghostly hands reaching out to drag her through the veil, to the darkness and desolation of the place beyond.

It was then that a beggar woman had crept out of the trees.

She had been starving and desperately searching for some sort of plunder from the battle.

As she wandered, fearfully through bloodstained filth and mud, others had been there before her and so she went further afield, following those who had fled the battleground. She hoped to find warriors who had lost their personal battle with some terrible wound and breathed their last, before finding sanctuary.

But time and time again, she found that she was too late. There were bodies, but all were picked clean of their valuables

It was only when she had given up all hope, that she came across Morgana.

Standing over Morgana's body, the woman had looked round anxiously. Somewhere, not so far away, she thought she could hear movement. Had she investigated, she would have seen, Merlin struggling onwards towards the lake of Avalon, his arm around his king, a cold sweat covering his skin and a look of blind panic on his face.

But she did not look. At any minute another might appear from the undergrowth, someone stronger than her, someone who would steal her prize from under her nose. Instead she had crouched over the corpse and seizing a hand began to tug off the gold and silver rings.

A chance touch would not have been enough for Morgana to effect her resurrection, but the woman had gripped Morgana's wrist hard, as she wrestled with the stubborn jewellery and Morgana had seen a chance to save herself.

As the icy wind from the World of the Dead, tried to suck her into the darkness, Morgana's spirit had migrated into the beggar woman's body.

The poor woman had felt as if mid-winter had taken hold of her heart, but she could not drop Morgana's pale, dead hand until she had what she needed.

With her teeth chattering, she had worked at her task and finally pocketed three large and valuable rings.

Sadly for her, the damage had been done. Although she did not know it, Morgana Pendragon was inside her.

The beggar woman had tried to remove Morgana's clothing but more noises coming from the trees had heralded the arrival of others. She had fled then into the darkness of the trees beyond, running until she could run no more. Finally she had collapsed in a muddy ditch and pulled branches and leaves over her, until she was just a part of the forest.

Inside her body, Morgana's spirit settled.

It had been a feat requiring the most powerful magic, and it had drained every ounce of power from Morgana. She had secured her grip on a mortal life, but for a long time afterwards she had lived in darkness.

Moments of consciousness had been few and Morgana's thoughts fragmented and disjointed. Sometimes the beggar woman's spirit would be in the ascendant and sometimes Morgana's.

Gradually however, the darkness had cleared and Morgana's spirit had set about proper ownership of the new mortal body.

Unfortunately it was a flawed body. Had Morgana's magic not intervened, it was doubtful that the woman would have lived through to the next winter. Starvation had attacked every part of her and even when Morgana had burnt away all traces of her host, the damage was still there.

The new Morgana was thin and pale. Her once shining black hair, which had grown to her waist, was now dry and brittle and never grew further than her shoulders. Her skin too had lost its glow and no matter how much she ate, she always looked under fed and faintly unwell.

Some who had known her well, might have recognised her as Morgana Pendragon, but she was a drab, older and thinner, version of what she had once been.

Her powers too were lessened, used up in her battle for resurrection. She slept little and often woke screaming in terror and despite the passing years, those moments after the battle still haunted her nightmares.

In her dreams she often felt the cut of the blade that Merlin had thrust into her body. She saw again the look in his eyes, regret and disgust and she remembered him turning away to help Arthur.

How she hated him.

She should never have followed Merlin and Arthur, after the battle. All she had done was put herself in danger. When she had found the king and his sorcerer, Arthur had clearly been dying and yet still, somehow, Merlin had saved him.

And Arthur's brush with death had not diminished him in any way. Although Morgana had not seen him in the flesh, all reports said that Camelot's King was as handsome and strong as ever. He rode to victory in tournament after tournament and gradually, mostly with diplomacy rather than battle, his influence had extended far beyond the kingdom ruled over by his father.

One day, Morgana was sure, all her old powers would return. There were flickers of it even now. When she attempted fire lighting, she saw faint sparks around her fingertips and if she concentrated hard she could levitate items a few inches into the air. She could also exercise power over people's minds. She could distract and hypnotise and make herself almost invisible, although the use of such magic left her exhausted.

In the past year, with the help of a lord from the northern territories, she had risked attacking Camelot with magic. But she had still been confused and not entirely herself. She had conjured a green knight and sent him into the heart of the citadel. But her creation had failed to kill Arthur and worse than that had probably alerted Merlin to the fact that she still lived.

Now she knew that she could not risk him finding her. In her present state, she would be no match for him and if he found her, he would surely kill her.

Faylinn looked at the crowds with dismay. She had never expected there would be so many people and already she feared that she would be forced to spend the night without a proper roof over her head.

She was in a small town, not three hours ride from Camelot. She had thought that by seeking lodgings a distance away from the capital, she would have had no trouble in finding a place to stay. But she was wrong. The small town of Lydyard was thronging with people, many of them doubtless on their way to the same destination as she was.

Faylinn and her son made their way to the largest and most salubrious looking of the towns's two taverns. They rode through the archway into the yard, where a groom took their horses and directed them through a back entrance into a noisy taproom, thronging with people.

Columb fought his way through the crowds to the bar and asked the barmaid if they could get rooms for the next three days.

'You'll be lucky," she said, cheerfully dumping three tankards of ale on the counter. 'Everywhere's full to the rafters."

She eyed Columb appreciatively.

"You can join the other young men in the stables if you wish. 'TIs warm enough and we can provide straw mattresses and blankets…..but for the lady? Unless she is prepared to share, we have nothing."

Columb returned to his mother with the news and Faylinn grimaced.

"By all the gods, I don't think I can face another night outside. Maybe we should go straight to the citadel and just ask to see the king right now, rather than wait for the audience tomorrow. He will remember me. He owes me a debt. When I tell him why we are here, he will not be able to refuse me. If he tries, well then….. he will live to regret it. I will shame him in front of all his citizens!"

Columb frowned. "And how on earth will you do that, Mother? I wish you would tell me what's going on. Why would King Arthur of Albion, help someone from the Emerald Isle. He has his own kingdom to worry about. We are foreigners, Mother. Not only that, there are hundreds of folk here. Without a clear invitation, I should think it will be incredibly difficult to get anywhere near the king, let alone start making demands."

Faylinn put her hand to her forehead and winced. "I cannot explain it to you. You just have to trust me. I will only say this. Even the most perfect of men have flaws and all have guilty secrets. If there is not a bed in this town, then I WILL go on to Camelot. My head hurts so and I ache all over. I just have to have a place to lie down in peace and quiet."

"Maybe, I can help," said a voice from a dark corner.

Faylinn swung round. She had thought the noise in the room too great for anyone to overhear their conversation.

A face appeared round the corner of a wooden partition.

"You are tired, my lady and in need of food. This table is private. You may relax here."

The face was thin and pale, but the voice was that of a lady and Faylinn hardly hesitated before taking up the invitation.

She took Columb's arm and pulled him towards the offered seating.

Morgana smiled at them. She smiled broadly. She couldn't believe her luck. It appeared that she had just stumbled on something that could have satisfyingly bad consequences for her hated half brother.

She did not make the mistake of making the lady aware that she had overheard her whole conversation. She merely ordered more food and chatted about the difficulties of finding any peace and quiet when either the big markets or the tournaments were taking place at Camelot.

As her two, new companions began to relax, she casually mentioned that should Faylinn wish it, she would happily share her room with her.

"It is a large room on the second floor," she explained, "It has two beds and room for a bath to be brought up. Why don't we organise that now and then you may go about your business or relax upstairs." She turned to Columb with a bright smile.

"I wish I could offer you a bed too, but sadly I fear you may have to join the other lads in the stables."

Columb shrugged. "Needs must," he said.

"And you are sure you would not mind the intrusion?" asked Faylinn anxiously, "I would be so grateful and of course I would pay my share of the accommodation."

"I wouldn't hear of it. We ladies must stick together. Oh, I am sorry. I haven't introduced myself. I am Lady Ygraine."

Faylinn introduced herself and her son, and Morgana tried to remember if she had ever heard of this person before. However, try as she might, she could not place either Faylinn or her son. Still, she would have plenty of time to get to the bottom of things over dinner in the evening.

Sure enough as evening fell, Morgana found herself alone with Faylinn in her upstairs room. Columb had made friends with other male guests at the tavern and was drinking and gaming downstairs. Despite resting in the afternoon, Faylinn had eagerly accepted Morgana's suggestion to eat in their room. It was far enough away from the bar area to be untroubled by the noisy drinkers below and more than anything, Faylinn wanted quiet so that she could really think through, how best to approach Arthur. For all her bravado, earlier in the day, she did not really believe that she could threaten him. He was a powerful king now, not the anxious young man she had met so many years before.

As she sat sipping her wine, Morgana suddenly broke the silence.

"So what is it that you need to speak to the king about?"

Faylinn was about to say that it was a personal matter when she suddenly found herself staring into Morgana's eyes. It was as if she was staring into a deep pool and the longer she stared, the more she seemed to forget her reluctance to tell anyone her secrets.

Slowly, as if in a dream, she began to recount the events of the picnic.

Morgana could barely contain herself. Arthur fathering a bastard? The possibilities to create mayhem in Camelot were endless.

"You cannot let him ignore his responsibility to either you, or your son. Columb is the king's first-born. King Arthur gave you his promise. You were betrothed. Surely Columb is his real heir, not those two dark skinned boys. They don't even look as if they come from this land. They are foreigners, as is their upstart mother. If the people of Camelot were to be given the choice of your son or a servant woman's, who do you think they would choose? Why, your blond haired, blue eyed Columb, of course."

"Is that what you think?" asked Faylinn, her voice little more than a whisper, "I had heard that the woman he married was once a servant, but I had also heard that the citizens think very highly of her. She is much loved is she not?"

"The people of Camelot have no choice but to accept her. She is their king's choice. But I assure you that they mutter among themselves and question her suitability to be their queen.

You, my dear, are a member of the nobility and were the people of Camelot to know of your claims on their king, many would welcome you with open arms. And they would welcome your handsome son also. Why, he is the image of the king!

I can see that you doubt your position, so let me tell you EXACTLY what you must say to him. You WILL NOT let him brush you aside. Threaten him and I assure you, he will capitulate."

Faylinn frowned, her eyes questioning.

"So it is right to tell my son, that the man he loved his whole life, was never his real father."

"But of course! Your husband is dead. Your son's real father is a powerful king with nothing but lowborn foreigners to succeed him. What man would not want to know that he is heir to a great kingdom? You must be firm with Arthur. You WILL be firm with him. You WILL INSIST Arthur recognises him as his heir."

Faylinn repeated her words. "I will insist."

Morgana smiled and snapped her fingers.

Faylinn blinked. "I'm sorry, what was I saying?"

"Oh you were just telling me of your journey. You must have had such a tiring day."

Later Morgana sat by the fire waiting for Faylinn to fall asleep. She had added something to her wine at dinner, so she did not have long to wait.

Then she hurried down to the yard and collected her horse. Considering the lateness of the hour, the groom looked at her quizzically.

"Are you leaving, my lady?"

Morgana shook her head impatiently. "I am merely visiting friends and I do not wish to walk."

The young helped Morgana into the saddle.

"Do you require a torch, my lady?"

Morgana waved a hand at the stars, which blazed out of a clear sky. "I can see perfectly well, thank you and I do not have far to go."

She took the reigns and kicked the horse into a trot.

Once away from the houses, Morgana encouraged her horse into a gallop. Ealdor was more than three hours ride and she had to get back to the tavern by morning.

Her horse was sweating by the time she caught sight of the village in which Merlin had been born. It was still a small and humble place, not at all the kind of place in which a great sorcerer should have started his life. But it was still the home of Merlin's mortal mother, Hunith. Why the stupid woman had not moved to Camelot to enjoy the life of a favoured courtier, Morgana had no idea, but she was mightily glad that Hunith had not.

Morgana got off her horse and tied the animal to a tree. After a cursory look around, she crept silently towards the village.

In her hand she carried a substantial leather pouch. In it was a poison, a poison from a country Morgana had never seen, nor was ever likely to. But she had seen its effects from the man from whom she had purchased it and knew that it was exactly what she needed.

Merlin would be unfamiliar with it and as such, unlikely to be able to deal quickly with the symptoms it caused, in those who were unlucky enough to ingest it.

Importantly it did not kill, at least not usually. Rather it induced sweating and flu like symptoms, which would usually lead to physical collapse. Time and certain herbs would eventually produce a recovery in all but the most unlucky and so for Morgana it was just what she required.

She had made up her mind that she would go to Camelot. She wanted to make sure that Faylinn caused as much trouble for Arthur as was possible and to do that, she needed to keep close by her side. Faylinn was clearly not a strong character and without Morgana's influence, she might well allow herself to be pushed aside by Arthur.

Unfortunately, Morgana did not dare enter the citadel or even the lower town of Camelot, while Merlin was there. That would be far too dangerous and so she had to find a way of ensuring that the sorcerer would be elsewhere.

As silent as a ghost, Morgana entered most of the houses in the village and at every home she entered, she added poison to the foodstuffs stored within. Some of this food would be eaten the following morning and some a few days later. The illness the poison induced, would look like a slowly spreading disease and as soon as Hunith succumbed, Morgana was certain that Merlin would leave Camelot and come to her aid.

There were only three more days before Arthur would hear the petitions from his subjects and before that there would be the Grand Autumn tournament. Doubtless Arthur himself would be competing and doubtless he would emerge as champion in some discipline or other, While Morgana struggled to remain healthy, her half brother it seemed, was as fit and strong as ever.

It was not fair and every time Morgana thought about it, she burned with resentment.

However, there was a grim smile of satisfaction as she made her way back to her horse. She was exhausted and not looking forward to her ride back to the tavern, but so far everything was going according to plan.

Arthur groaned as he looked down from the gallery on the large crowd of people waiting for an audience in the great hall below. He was in for a long day.

The Autumn tournament always attracted large crowds and it was traditional for those who wished an audience with the king to gather in the castle the day after the tournament had finished.

Some of the men below would be coming to discuss grazing rights, others the payment of taxes. Still others would be coming for Arthur to make a judgement on a dispute between neighbours.

With so many subjects it was a long and often tedious day, but it was the duty of the king not only to rule, but also to serve his people. Thus, while Arthur would have preferred to be in the training ground, he was dressed in his finery and ready to meet his people.

Merlin came to stand by his side and grinned at him.

"There's an awful lot of them today, aren't there?"

"Don't rub it in. This has to be the most tedious day of the year!"

"Well look on the bright side. I've written you a fantastic speech for the opening of the council at Kielder, and I've even made it quite short….interesting and informative, but really short…just the way you like it."

Arthur couldn't help but smile. Merlin was a master at speech writing and over the years he had saved Arthur, hours of torment, trapped behind his desk, utterly bereft of ideas, but trying to write something that people would actually want to listen to.

He sighed. "Well I suppose the sooner I start, the sooner it will be over."

"Exactly," confirmed Merlin with a grin.

Arthur entered the great hall, hoping that his reluctance did not show on his face. He took his seat on the throne and after a moment, signalled to the page, standing close by, to bring him the first person in the long queue.

In fact, the queue seemed to diminish quite quickly and Arthur even found some of the problems he was called to deal with, quite interesting.

He was nevertheless pleased when he saw that only two people were left to see him and they appeared to be together, so the end was in sight.

The last two were a woman and a younger man, who Arthur guessed to be her son. He was not aware of ever having seen either of them before, although there was something familiar about the woman.

"My Lord"

The woman curtsied and the man beside her bowed.

Arthur smiled at them, still searching his memory for where he might have met this lady before.

When she introduced herself, Arthur felt a prickle of unease.

"My Lord, it is many years since we last met, but I am Lady Faylinn of Glengormley on the Emerald Isle, widow of Lord Finan.

May I present to you my son, Columb?"

"You are both welcome," said Arthur, "but I am surprised you come to my court for assistance. You are far from home."

Faylinn, nodded, "Yes we have travelled many days to get here, but we are in need of your help.

Since the death of my husband, our lands have been under attack from the outlaw, Colgan. He has a huge number of men at his command and daily they steal our cattle and attack our villages. With my husband gone, Colgan wishes to take my lands and although we have many good and loyal men, we are outnumbered.

A sickness swept through the island and we suffered many losses. We have barely enough men and boys to tend the animals and farm the land, and certainly not enough to hold out against such a determined foe. That is why I have come to ask you to send some of your famous knights to assist me."

Arthur frowned. "You come from another country, madam and one that is not part of our alliance. Do you have no neighbours who can assist you against this brigand?"

The young man spoke for the first time. "The Emerald Isle is a lawless place and the men of our homeland jostle constantly for position and power. My father's lands are now mine to govern, but we are, as my mother says, badly outnumbered. My mother assured me that you would help. If that is not the case, then we have made a wasted journey."

Lady Faylinn put a hand on her son's arm. "Columb, allow me to deal with this."

She pulled off her gloves and removed a ring from her finger. She held it out to Arthur.

Arthur stared at the piece of jewellery. He had not seen for so many years and had all but forgotten its existence. Now, he knew why Faylinn was here.

As he took the ring, he looked more closely at Columb. He was blond and blue-eyed like his mother….blond and blue eyed like Arthur himself…

Arthur felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

Columb looked as if he might be in his twenties. Could he really be the product of those lost hours, when both he and Faylinn had been at the mercy of Turgot's 'happiness potion'? Had she passed this young man off as her husband's child, when all along he was really Arthur's?

"My Lady Faylinn, I think we should to continue this conversation somewhere less…..less draughty. You are the last of those wishing to see me today and so we can discuss your predicament in some detail. I may well be able to assist you, but I must understand exactly what it is that you require of me."

Faylinn put her hand on Columb's arm and whispered something in his ear. He looked annoyed.

"Mother, I must be involved in any discussions…"

Faylinn shook her head. "No, Columb. The king and I are friends from a very long time ago. We have more to talk about than just our current problems. Why don't you go back to the tavern. The king will make sure that I will not have to ride back to the tavern alone."

Arthur spoke up in agreement. Columb did not need to know of past indiscretions, unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Yes of course. You may be sure that your mother will be escorted safely back to your lodgings."

Columb scowled, but he seemed to accept that he was not required and with the briefest of bows, he stalked away.

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief and ushered Faylinn through a side door and up the stairs and into a small room lined with books.

He offered Faylinn a chair by the fireplace, although no fire was lit and dragged another chair over so that he could sit close to her.

Without any preamble he asked, "Is he mine?"

Faylinn paused for a moment, but then she said the words he really did not want to hear.

"He is your son, Arthur. I was pregnant when I married my husband, but he did not know it. He was a far kinder and a far better man than I could ever have hoped for. I found in a very short space of time that I loved him, so there was no need to contact you and ask for your help. But," she paused as if uncertain how to continue, as if trying to remember something, "I have been living a lie all these years and now I think that it is only right that you know the truth. Columb is your son. He is your first-born. Surely that entitles him to something…..some sort of recognition, a place in your court," she swallowed, "some recognition that he is your heir."

Arthur's face went white.

"He is….not my heir. I am married and I have two sons of my own and a daughter… all born in wedlock. I recognise that I owe you a debt and will help you keep your lands safe…but anything else is out of the question."

She stared at him, her eyes cold.

"Arthur, when I passed through Camelot all those years ago, I was a maid. I was on my way to be married to an honourable man who had paid a huge bride-price for my hand. I will not pretend I was looking forward to my marriage, for I did not know then that my husband would win my love so quickly.

When I came to Camelot, I may have had my reservations about my betrothal, but I had no intention of betraying the bargain my parents had made. Had you and Turgot not tricked me into drinking that mead, I would have left Camelot as I arrived and gone to my husband unsullied by any other man.

But you know what happened and on that day you did not try to deny it. You gave me your ring and you promised that if I were pregnant, then you would marry me. To all intents and purposes, we were promised to each other."

For a few moments Arthur was silent. He HAD promised her that should it be necessary, he would marry her. She had apparently managed to pass her child off as her husband's, but if she had been pregnant BEFORE her marriage and IF he had been responsible, he could not consider himself a man of honour, if he cast her aside.

If only he could remember the details of that fateful afternoon.

"To this day," he said, earnestly, "I cannot recall what happened. In fact the only person who really knows is Turgot. Even on the day itself, he did not really tell me what I had done or for that matter what I had NOT done. He just implied….."

"But you knew, didn't you? Why else would you have been so keen to make me a promise? You could have denied everything."

Arthur frowned. "I was…..young…..confused…I could see how upset you were and I just wanted to…to ..stop you from crying. You were so unhappy. I just couldn't ignore you and for all I knew, I might have been the one to…."

His voice trailed away.

He cleared his throat, trying to give himself a moment to think.

"Look", he said at last, "I will help you. Today I will despatch 25 of my finest bowmen into your service and five of my knights. They will go back with your son to the Emerald Isle and organise the defence of your lands. You may stay here in Camelot and I will set about finding Turgot. I will bring him here and question him in the presence of my friend and advisor, Merlin. He will know immediately if Turgot speaks the truth."

Faylinn did not look pleased, "I have heard of your sorcerer. How times have changed! I remember when the use of magic was punishable by death and yet now your closest courtier is famous for his magical skills."

She snorted, "How could I trust him to tell the truth? He would say whatever he thought you wanted you to hear."

Arthur protested vigorously.

"That is where you are completely, wrong. Merlin would never lie, not even to please me. He is the most honest man I have ever known. He would expect me to take responsibility for my actions. Of that I can assure you."

"And do you know where Turgot is now?"

"Unfortunately, I do not. He and his family left Camelot many, many years ago. They left in disgrace, his father having been guilty of conduct not in accordance with the knight's code. But," he continued hastily, "his family lands were not so far from Camelot. I am sure, if I send out enquires, I can track him down. All I ask is that you give me some time. If Turgot confirms that I did indeed father your son, then I will make amends."

"You will recognise him as your heir?"

"That I cannot say. You and I were never married…."

"But you gave me your promise! We were betrothed! I INSIST that you….."

"And you chose to marry another man," interrupted Arthur, "and you chose to lie to him about your son, so do not presume to INSIST that I do anything. I will decide exactly what I am going to do, WHEN we know the truth.'

"And what if Turgot is dead?"

"Well then, we will never know, but I will accept that I have responsibility for your son and we will discuss exactly what that will mean, when the time comes."

Faylinn looked as if she would continue the argument, but then she seemed to change her mind.

"I will have expenses if I stay here. I am staying at the Black Horse in Lydyard and at the moment the place is so full that I must share with a stranger."

"You will move into the palace, this very day. I will send servants to fetch your belongings. Would that be acceptable to you?"

Faylinn indicated that it would and before she could say any more Arthur said, "And now, you must excuse me. I will immediately make enquiries and if I feel it necessary, I will go in search of Turgot, myself. It may take weeks or even months but I promise you that by the time November comes I will make a decision as to what I will do about Columb."

"And I will wait," answered Faylinn, determinedly, "just don't make me wait too long or I may feel it necessary to publicise my claims."

Arthur felt his anger rising, and Faylinn must have seen it in his face, because she backed away from him.

But there was nothing that Arthur could do about her threats. His best and only option was to placate her and speak to Merlin. Merlin would know exactly what to do.

"You are my guest, Madam," he said formally, "please find a way to be patient."

Arthur reached up and pulled a cord, which rang a bell in the corridor.

George, his manservant, hurried to answer the call and Arthur gave him instructions for retrieving Faylinn's things from the tavern at Lydyard.

"And while the servants are collecting this lady's clothing, will you please take her to one of the guest rooms on the west side of the castle and then ask the Lady Andrea if she will show her round and help her get her bearings in the palace"

He forced himself to smile.

"Camelot can be a little confusing when you first arrive."

As George hurried away, Arthur could not help himself from asking one more question.

"When did you find out who I really was? I do not think you would be here if I was just the son of the Captain of the Guards?"

It was Faylinn's turn to look angry.

"I travelled from the Emerald Isle with my husband, many years ago. We came to buy cloth. I saw you in a town on the coast. You were with your knights and it was quite obvious exactly who you were. At the time, I had no need of your help. However if nothing else, it established you as a liar!"

Arthur ground his teeth. It had not been his idea to lie about his identity, but he had gone along with the subterfuge because it suited him to. He tried to excuse the lie.

"Your cousins suggested that I take on an alias. They thought that you might…oh it doesn't matter. It was stupid, but I was sixteen years old….."

"So you blame the 'folly of youth' for your behaviour, do you? Well you are a man now, a king and it is time to take responsibilities for your actions."

Arthur stretched out his hand and took Faylinn's in his. He bowed, but was rewarded with only a hostile stare.

Arthur hurried towards his study, his head reeling. In truth, he had forgotten Faylinn. But now, here she was and one way or another he would have to do something about it. He found himself wondering whom he could send in search of Turgot. He couldn't really go himself without exciting all kinds of speculation. In any case, in two days he would be following his family north. Arthur and Leon were to go first to attend the council meeting with the lords of the Northern Territiories. After that, they would head for the castle of Lindisfarne, where Percival, Gawaine, Gwen and the children were staying.

The Pendragons had discovered the delights of Lindifarne the previous year and since then the children had been clamouring to go back. It thus seemed obvious to combine a trip to the castle with Arthur's attendance at the council meeting.

Since summer was drawing to a close Gwen and the children accompanied, by Gawaine and Percival had gone on ahead. No one wanted to miss out on the last warm days and the chance to walk on the beaches and sail in the picturesque bays that littered the rocky northern coast.

The castle was the home of Lord Soren who was married to Percival's sister Matilda. Matilda was the only surviving member of Percival's immediate family and as such he and his sister were very close.

The previous summer Percival had also met his own wife at Lindisfarne. The only daughter of an elderly northern landowner, Joanna, had not wished to leave her parent alone and so she and Percival divided their time between Camelot and Joanna's family home.

Lindisfarne Castle was tiny but the welcome was immense and the informality made everyone feel at ease and happy. For the children, to be beside the ocean was both a novelty and a delight and they all loved it. Far from Camelot, the Pendragon children could roam freely, without the need to pay heed to their royal status. They spent their days outside with Soren and Matilda's four children, riding, sailing and fishing.

More often than not Gwen would join them, ostensibly to keep an eye on little Melora, but in reality to enjoy the same freedoms as her children.

Having spent her early years in Camelot as a servant, Gwen'schange in station had not been easy. At first she had been ridiculously nervous, almost unable to ask the servants to do anything for her at all. Then she had gone completely the other way and tried to behave in the imperious way, that she thought the subjects of Camelot would expect. Neither had been successful and it was only after months of trial and error that Gwen had finally found a way to be true to her own nature, while also behaving like the queen she had become.

In Lindisfarne however, she did not feel the need to be a 'queen' at all. In Lindisfarne she was just 'Gwen'.

Arthur too loved the informality of the remote castle and had been looking forward to his visit there for weeks. Now unfortunately, it seemed unlikely that he would see Lindisfarne this year, or maybe for a long, long time. Everything had changed and the future was no longer certain.

Arthur sighed. The family had been gone for only a week and while he missed them a great deal, he was suddenly very glad that they were far away.

"Oh Merlin," Arthur muttered to himself, "I need your advice."

As if on cue, Merlin hurried into the room. As usual his expensive clothes looked slightly dusty and his longish hair tumbled about his shoulders in a messy fashion.

Arthur greeted him with a hopeful smile, but his expression changed when he noticed the look of concern on his friend's face.

"Merlin…is something the matter?"

Merlin ran his fingers through his untidy hair.

"It's my mother. There is sickness in Ealdor. Already two people are dead and many more ill…..among them, my mother. She was helping to look after those who were sick, but now she has collapsed and cannot leave her bed. I must go to her and I must go immediately."

"Of course, of course. Maybe I should go with you, the Gods know I need no excuse to avoid the taxation meeting, tomorrow."

Merlin shook his head distractedly, "No, you must NOT come with me. You could contract the same illness."

"Well then, at least take some travelling companions, at least until you are nearly at Ealdor. I don't like to think of you travelling alone."

Once again Merlin shook his head. "No Arthur. I CAN go alone and believe me, that is the safest course of action. I can ride through the forest unnoticed. If there were others with me, we could well attract the attention of thieves or any other undesirables that haunt the forest tracks. I really am safer and quicker alone."

Arthur knew that Merlin was probably right and reluctantly agreed.

"You must promise to send word as soon as you get to your mother and keep me informed as to what is happening.

Take some of the messenger birds with you and also take the fastest horse in the stables. The sooner you are there, the sooner you will be able to help Hunith. I may well have left for the north by the time you return and if I have, do not think that you have to follow. I can deal with the council on my own. It's really only a matter of agreeing with everyone that we will all continue to fund the garrison's along the coast and our fleet of ships. So far I think we have been very successful in warding off raiders and I am sure everyone will agree that, despite the ongoing costs, it is money well spent."

Merlin looked torn.

"The council. By all the gods! I had all but forgotten. I should go with you."

Arthur put a hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"Just go to Ealdor, Merlin. Look after, your mother and return to Camelot only when she is well."

Merlin did not tarry. He gathered together all the herbs, tinctures and potions he thought might help and hurried down to the stables.

Alone again, Arthur stared into the distance. He had had no chance to tell Merlin of his troubles and the more he thought about it, the more he realised that Merlin was the ONLY person he felt he could tell. But Merlin was gone and Arthur would have to deal with this problem himself.

What if Columb did turn out to be his son? What would Gwen think? She would be so disappointed in him. It did not bear thinking about. Thank the gods, Gwen was far away. She could always tell when he was worried and if she had been here today, he would have found it almost impossible to keep her from finding out his guilty secret.

What could he do? How could he sort this mess out and keep all the sordid details from his wife and children?

He paced the floor, backwards and forwards in front of the empty grate. At first he seemed paralysed with indecision, imagining himself both confessing everything to Gwen and then telling any lie so that she would not find out the truth and it was a full half an hour later, before he had finally made a plan.

It was hardly a sensible plan, but one thing he was sure of, was that until he had spoken to Turgot, he wanted this matter kept from everyone. There was still a chance that Turgot had only been tormenting him that day. It was exactly the kind of thing Turgot enjoyed. He liked manipulating people and revelled in his power to unsettle and upset. So if there was even the faintest chance that Arthur had done nothing to be ashamed of, then he was going to do his best to keep it that way.

He stepped out into the corridor and instructed a passing servant to send for Sir Leon.

While Gawaine and Percival had escorted the rest of the Pendragons north to Lindisfarne, Leon had stayed behind, to travel with the king.

Leon did not keep Arthur waiting long and as soon as he entered the room, Arthur told him that there had been a slight change in the arrangements for the coming days.

"Leon," he said, trying hard to sound cheerful and casual, "something has come up that I have to deal with and it might delay me leaving in time for the council at Kielder. So I want you to go on ahead of me and if necessary, lead the meeting. We have discussed everything at length, I think, so I know that you will be able to convey my thoughts to the other members of our alliance. Should you feel it necessary to strengthen our northern garrison, I will leave it to you to make the appropriate arrangements. I suggest you stick to our original plan and take at least 20 men with you, all or some of whom can remain in the north if required."

Sir Leon raised his eyebrows.

"So you may not attend the meeting at all?"

"I fully intend to get there, but if circumstances dictate otherwise, I just need you to know that you have my authority to make whatever arrangements you see fit. I have complete confidence in you, Leon."

Arthur smiled encouragingly, hoping that Leon would not ask him any further questions.

"If I miss the meeting at Keilder, then I will go directly to Lindisfarne. I suggest that after the council meeting you all wait for me there for at least a week, longer if the weather is set fair, for I still wish to spend a few days with Matilda and Soren."

Leon frowned.

"And who will you travel with, my lord? It is a long journey, Arthur and as you know, it is usual for one or other of the senior knights to go with you on all your travels."

Arthur forced another smile.

"Oh I will take Bedivere or Lamorak and perhaps a couple of men from the castle guard. I will be in no danger and Sir Gareth can take charge, once you have left for the north. He is proving himself very able, don't you think?"

He patted Leon on the shoulder, guiding him towards the door.

"So that's all settled then," he said, bringing the conversation to an end.

If Leon realised he was being hurried from the room, he said nothing. He nodded obligingly, "Of course, of course."

He paused in the doorway.

"This er….matter, you speak of, Arthur. Is it anything I can help you with? Can I er….."

"No, no, Leon. Do not concern yourself. It is a matter of an….inheritance…er…a disputed inheritance. I need to speak with someone…. to investigate further and discover the truth. I am sure the matter can be dealt with swiftly. It's just come at an inopportune moment, that's all. I can't pretend to be sorry that I might miss the council meeting, but I do want to get to Lindisfarne. I have been looking forward to it for months."

Leon turned to go.

"Oh and Leon, can you chair the taxation meeting for me, tomorrow?"

"Of course Arthur. We have discussed all that needs to be arranged. Do you have any fresh instructions?"

"None, Leon and now if you'll excuse me, I have something I must do."

Leon walked out into the corridor and Arthur hurried away in the opposite direction.

For many years the archives had been in the care of Geoffrey of Monmouth and the old man had been meticulous in recording the origins and ancestry of all the nobility. However now that his eyesight was failing, he was assisted in his role by a serious young man named, Drystan.

Drystan had worked tirelessly under the elderly Geoffrey's tuition and was now as familiar with the contents of the scrolls and lists, as his mentor.

He was surprised, however to see the king approaching and immediately got to his feet. The king had never to his knowledge come down to the archives in person.

"My Lord," he said, bowing low, "how may I be of assistance?"

"I need to look at the records of the first knights of Camelot," answered Arthur, trying hard to conceal his impatience.

Had he known where, he would have looked himself, but he knew that he could spend hours among the dusty shelves and cabinets and find precisely nothing.

So, Arthur waited patiently while Drystan found the relevant papers and then moved over to a dusty table away from Drystan's prying eyes.

He scanned the lists of nobility and found Turgot's father Udolph Troelson. His ancestral home was listed as 'Red Trees', some two days ride from Camelot. But there was also another name listed, 'Gull Shadow'. The location of this place was vague. The scroll was damaged by mould and water marks and some of the explanatory script was missing. A smudgy illustration showed a solitary tower, which looked to be standing somewhere on the western coast. The script that could still be read, showed that this tower had been the home of Wymer, Turgot's grandfather. Wymer had come from across the northern seas, built his tower and gradually established himself as a fearless and ruthless overlord.

Arthur scrubbed his hands over his forehead. Although Turgot lived at the castle, Arthur was pretty sure he could remember Turgot talking about 'Red Trees'. From time to time Turgot would accompany his father and sister back to see his mother. She only ever came to Camelot for special occasions and Arthur was sure that the family's journey home had not been a long one. Surely he could reach this place easily and still get to the council at Kielder Castle, on time.

But even as went to return the scrolls to Drystan, he realised that Turgot would not be at 'Red Trees'. Udolph had gambled away the family fortune and had long ago lost control of the property and the surrounding estate.

So where would Turgot's family have gone? Surely it was possible that they had returned to the old family dwelling place?

From the rough illustration Arthur had seen, the tower, looked to be in a desolate part of the country. Nevertheless, if Turgot's family had found themselves homeless, they might well have been left with no choice but to return there.

Arthur laid the scroll on the table in front of Drystan.

"Tell me," he said casually, "do you know exactly where this building stands?"

Drystan studied the scroll and frowned.

"I apologise, my lord, but I do not. From what my master tells me, it was abandoned many years ago. It used to belong to…."

"Yes, yes I am aware of its history. It's just that someone mentioned the family to me today and I wondered what had become of them."

"Sir Udolph lost his position at the court, my lord. 'Conduct unbecoming to a knight of Camelot'. Your father banished him."

Arthur nodded. "Of course. I remember now. Thank you for your help."

As Arthur hurried away, he was already making plans in his head. Red Trees would be a waste of time, so if he was to start anywhere in his quest to find Turgot, then the strange tower, known as 'Gull Shadow', seemed to be the place.

As he went back to his apartment his head was spinning with plans. If he could leave tonight then he would not have to give Leon any more details of his movements. Leon had been briefed to expect that Arthur might not arrive at the council meeting and that gave Arthur some time to find his old adversary. If he could just speak with him and find out the truth there was yet a chance that Arthur could avoid ever having to tell his family about his behaviour.

Without calling for George, Arthur began searching through his clothes for something to wear that would allow him to travel through the countryside, without drawing attention to himself.

Once he had thrown a few items into a travelling bag, he went down to the quarters of the unmarried knights and searched for Lamorak and Bedivere.

As luck would have it, the two young men were playing a game of dice in the corner of the knights' refectory.

Seeing their king striding towards them, they both got to their feet.

Arthur greeted them and told them that he had a mission for them.

"We are going to Ealdor," he explained, "There is sickness there and Merlin has gone there to try and help his mother. She has fallen ill. Merlin insists that the village be quarantined, but I am concerned that the people there will starve if many are unable to work. I want the two of you to organise supplies for the village."

He put a hand on the shoulder of the tall dark-haired Lamorak. "Bring your bow, Lamorak. That will be our way of communicating with the villagers, without getting too close. We will fire our messages into Ealdor. You have by far the longest reach of any of the knights and we can stand well back, but still let the villagers know that we are there for them."

Lamorak smiled shyly. He had been a fully fledged knight for only a few months, but he was Camelot's champion archer and could hit a target from further away than anyone in the citadel.

"Shall I procure writing materials for the messages as well, my lord?" he asked.

"No, no," said Arthur, "I have already collected them. Just pack your supplies…you may be gone for a week or two…. and then meet me at the stables."

As Arthur disappeared down the corridor, the two knights exchanged looks.

"How many other kings would do so much for their people?" mused Bedivere.

"Our king is not like any other," answered Lamorac.

Arthur and the two knights left Camelot less than an hour later and by the time they made camp for the night, the were already well on their way to Ealdor.

Despite protests, Arthur insisted on taking the first watch. He was tired, but too worried and tense to sleep.

As he gazed moodily into the flames of the campfire, he found himself wondering what on earth he was doing. Once they reached Ealdor, he fully intended to leave his two knights to watch over Merlin and the villagers and to travel on alone towards the sea.

He knew that by travelling unaccompanied, he was putting himself at risk. The roads and byways and forests were full of thieves and smugglers and a man riding alone would always be a target. Of course, he did not worry on his own account. He worried for his family and his people. If he died, alone on the road to a place he did not even know still existed, he would have forsaken them all. They would never know why he had left, or where he had fallen.

And to leave Gwen and all his children without a word of goodbye, that was a cruelty he did not want to think about.

Finally, there was Merlin. What would his dearest friend, the man he thought of as his brother, what would he think?

For so many years Merlin had watched over Arthur, unable to reveal his true nature. He had endured ridicule and danger just to keep Arthur alive, in order that he could inherit his throne and finally bring an age of enlightenment to Albion.

Had he even lived up to Merlin's expectations? Arthur found himself wondering if he had done even half of what was needed and if he died now, would Bohart be able to complete his work?

Bohart was just a child. It would be years before he could be a king in his own right. If Arthur did not return from this expedition, he would be placing a terrible burden on both his son and his wife.

Arthur's relationship with his own father had been fractured and difficult, yet even so, Arthur had looked up to Uther and relied on him for guidance. When Uther's untimely death had propelled Arthur to kingship, he had felt totally unprepared.

Arthur found himself remembering the dark days after the death of Uthor, the great weight of responsibility pressing down on him and the awful feeling that he was just not ready. He would not wish that on Bohart. Not for all, the world.

Arthur watched the stars until his eyes hurt, but still he had no answers to his questions. Eventually, Lamorak took the second watch and Arthur lay down by the fire.

Nervous exhaustion brought him peace until the dawn broke and then the three men rode on towards Ealdor.

Once they could see the outlying buildings up ahead, Lamorak took aim and fired a message into the village, letting Merlin know that anything the villagers needed could be provided. The answer came back swiftly, tied to another arrow and it carried a message from Merlin.

He told them that he had everything in hand, but more than half the village had now taken to their beds. On the positive side, he wrote that his mother, although still gravely ill, was alive and he was confident that she would recover.

Arthur read Merlin's note with relief. If Hunith still lived, then surely Merlin could see her through this illness.

Arthur wished he could wait to hear that she was completely out of danger, but if he was to pursue his plan to find Turgot, he could not stay. He should leave immediately.

Leaving the two knights did not prove as hard as Arthur had expected. It required a lie, but Arthur found that he could to tell his lies with a smile on his face

"I am afraid I must go," he told the two knights, briskly, "I have arranged to meet Sir Leon and the rest of the men bound for the north at Lower Stowey Crossroads. I do not wish to keep them waiting. We are calling at Lindisfarne, before we go on to Kielder, so we must leave with plenty of time to spare."

As he walked towards the horses, Lamorak made a suggestion.

"Shouldn't I travel with you, my lord, as far as the crossroads?"

Arthur shook his head and tried to keep the impatience out of his voice.

"Lamorak, I know these roads and tracks like the back of my hand. I can easily travel to the crossroads, unaided. It is only a few miles."

"But My Lord, the woods are not without their dangers…"

Arthur brushed his protests aside, "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

With that, Arthur mounted up and galloped away, leaving the two young knights staring after him. Little did Arthur know that it would be a very long time before he saw either of them again.

Arthur spent three days heading for the coast. At every village and hamlet, he asked if anyone knew of a place called 'Gull Shadow,' but he was met with nothing more than blank looks and the occasional hard stare.

He had done his best to 'blend in', wearing dull brown clothes and a hooded leather jacket. For two days it had rained almost constantly and so he had had a good excuse to keep his hood up. This effectively camouflaged his light hair and kept his face in shadow

There was no disguising the fact that his mare, Tilly was a rich man's horse, but at least her chestnut colouring did not attract attention the way Arthur's prize stallion, Diablo would have done.

On the fourth night, Arthur decided to find a proper bed for the night. His clothes were wet through and he felt that a night indoors and the possibility of drying his clothes, might encourage him on his dismal quest.

He could hardly remember the last time he had travelled alone and he found himself constantly looking around for a companion. This lack of someone with whom to pass the long hours in the saddle, did nothing for his mood and by the time he found somewhere to stop for the night, Arthur was thoroughly depressed.

The room he was offered was tiny and cramped and the food was similarly well below the standards he was used to.

In the darkness of a corner table in the small tavern Arthur nursed a mug of ale and ploughed his way through a plate of watery stew.

As he chewed, he watched the other inhabitants of the room and listened to their conversations. He was not alone for long however. The young woman who had brought his food soon returned and lent down to attract his attention.

"What's a handsome man like you doing all alone, my darlin? Want some company?"

Arthur did his best to look friendly.

"Thank you, my dear, but not really. I just needed to get out of the rain."

"So I can do nothing for you, my darlin'…..nothing at all?"

She leant down closer, her blond curls falling round her face.

Arthur sighed. He could see what she was offering. Sadly, hers was not the kind of company he wanted. However, he felt he might just as well ask her the question he had been asking all day.

"You can do something for me," he said.

Her smile brightened.

"You can tell me if you know anything about a place called, Gull Shadow. It is on the coast somewhere, I believe."

He looked at her hopefully, although fully prepared for another disappointment. Instead her open friendly expression changed. Her eyes narrowed and she stood up straight.

"What do you want with that place?" she demanded.

"I am looking for a man called Turgot Troelson. I have a matter of inheritance to discuss with him. Do you know of this place?"

Her eyes remained dark and her expression the same.

"Tis a bad place," she told him. "You don't want to go nowhere near it. There be slaves there and sorcery. Tis wild and dark. The sun never shines there and the lord?" She shook her head, her blond curls catching the light from the candles, "He is a cruel and vicious man."

"You know him?" asked Arthur, his pulse quickening.

"My sister….she went with him…..the lord of that evil place. He promised her a home…..rank….a title. She returned but three months on…..mad and desperate. She died a few weeks later. Why would you go there? Tis a terrible place."

"I do not intend to stay," said Arthur, urgently, "I just need to speak with the lord. If you can direct me, please do. I will pay you well."

The bar maid studied him. "You are a splendid looking fellow and no mistake." She stroked his cheek.

"You could spend some happy times here. Go to that 'hell' and you will regret it…but if you must…I will tell you the way…..but I wish you would'nt go."

Arthur invited her to sit and reluctantly, she gave him directions.

"Tis close to Dunster, but even from there, 'tis hard to find. I will do my best to describe the way, but you should maybe ask at the castle. Some there may be able to direct you the last few miles. But, if you change your mind…..I'll still be here….."

Arthur thanked her and gave her more money than she could have earned in a month.

She looked at the gold coins in her hand and lent over and kissed him.

"Tis way too much. I send you to…. the gods know what. But if you must go, try to come back this way. I would like to know that you have survived the evil there."

She touched his cheek again and then, with a sigh, hurried away to deal with her other customers.

Arthur sat alone at his table and stared into his ale. At last he had some guidance, but what he heard from the bar maid was unsettling. The mere mention of sorcery would once have had him on the alert. But now, when sorcery was totally accepted in Camelot, it was not this that bothered him. It was the fear in the young woman's voice and the sad tale of her sister's demise. If Turgot was responsible than Arthur would have to be careful, very careful indeed.

The following morning, he set off early. He did not waste time on breakfast but took directions to Dunster and headed on down the coast. He thanked the gods that he had met with the in completely the wrong direction.

As the sun neared the horizon, he saw the castle perched on the side of a hill above Dunster village.

He had met William De Moyon, the Lord of Dunster on two occasions. However, he could remember little about him and hoped De Moyan had an equally bad memory. For Arthur had decided to call at the castle and ask for directions. He had had enough of asking surly peasants.

The castle was built of rust coloured stone. It did not shine in the sun like Camelot, but its position gave it a commanding view of the surrounding countryside.

Much of the area was marshland and as Arthur made his way inland from the rocky shoreline, he was forced to stick to the narrow boardwalks, built over the reedy wet ground below.

As Tilly climbed the steep track to the castle, Arthur could tell she was tired and she wasn't the only one. He found himself wondering if he dared ask for a bed for the night. Whatever awaited him at Gull's Shadow, he would face it better after a good night's sleep.

Most wealthy lords offered places in their great halls for travellers and the opportunity to sleep by their fires for the night.

Arthur had not shaved since he had left Camelot and hoped that in amongst other travellers, he would not be noticed.

When Tilly came to a halt outside the castle's huge gates, they were already closed for the night.

Arthur leaned forward and lifted the huge knocker before letting it crash down onto the iron plate, nailed into the stout wood.

A face appeared at a small window.

"Who goes there?"

"A passing traveller….Marcus Fletcher of Thetford. Do you have a place for me by the fire?"

The small door in the huge gates opened and a gate keeper looked out.

He held out his hand and Arthur dropped a coin into it.

The man nodded and on his signal, one of the big gates opened just wide enough for Arthur and Tilly to slip through.

"Stable, that way," grunted the gate keeper, "and you should hurry if you want to be fed. Dinner's being served, now."

Arthur thanked him and urged Tilly on towards the stables.

As Arthur slipped to the ground, a stable lad took the reigns from Arthur's hand.

"A fine horse, my lord," he said, stroking Tilly's big head.

Arthur accepted the compliment and asked for directions to the hall.

He could have followed his nose, for the smell of roasting meat made his mouth water, long before he joined the rest of the people waiting to be fed.

As was usual there was a 'strangers' table and he took his meal there and squeezed onto a crowded bench.

The man next to him nodded but did not introduce himself, preferring instead to concentrate on the huge chunk of meat in his bowl.

Arthur too was content to eat in silence, not wanting to draw any undue attention.

From time to time, he sneaked a look at the top table, but William de Moyon never once glanced in his direction.

Some time later, the top table emptied and eventually, only the strangers remained in the hall. Some had opted for a bed in the stables, but others found a place near the fire and laid down their rugs and coats on the rushes.

Outside, the weather was still fairly mild but there was a damp wind blowing from the north and as the moon rose, places near the banked fire were preferable to those further away.

Arthur had been lucky enough to bag one of the wooden settles close to the hearth and as he slowly finished his ale, he glanced round at the other travellers.

Most were already closing their eyes, but one man, with a bushy red beard, offered Arthur a refill from a flagon of ale and perched on a stool next to him.

They introduced themselves and exchanged pleasantries, while they drank.

"Have you come far?" asked Arthur.

His companion nodded.

"All the way from Lincoln. I deal in yarn. There is a fine market in the village below. And you, my friend? What is your business here?"

"I am looking for a place called 'Gull Shadow'. I don't suppose you know it."

The merchant frowned. "I do know of it, but one visit there is enough for any man. I visit all the great houses and castles when I travel. My yarn is much in demand.

It was only by chance that I saw the place you speak of. Apparently it is often cloaked in mist, even on a windy day.

The Lord of Gull Shadow however, needs no yarn, at least not of the quality that I sell. He has no wife and as far as I could tell there are no proper ladies there at all. The man is an animal and there is a rumour that he is a sorcerer. I do not intend to return there any time soon. May I ask, what is your business there?"

Arthur feigned nonchalance and gave his stock answer.

"It is a matter of an inheritance. It may benefit the lord of Gull Shadow and I must make enquiries before the matter is settled. I do not intend to stay any longer than I have to, but I would be grateful if you could give me directions so that I may find the place, quickly. I have already wasted many days."

His companion raised his eyebrows. "I feel that man would be grateful for any inheritance. The place is practically falling down. Here, let me draw you a map."

He pulled a charcoal stick from the edge of the fire and brushing aside some of the rushes, drew on the wooden floor.

"Just remember, this place is often shrouded in mist or sea fog, so it is easy to pass by without even noticing it. Find the 'Hanging tree', then head directly towards the sea. The tower is perched on a rock in a narrow cove. It's built of some sort of black flint…..makes the place look even more forbidding and gloomy than it already is.

There is only one entrance and that is twenty or so steps up. The land around belongs to the man you seek, but it is mostly marsh and rock. There is nothing there but a few hardy sheep. He grows no crops and his peasants are a desperate crowd, filthy and underfed. Make sure you eat breakfast tomorrow as I doubt you will be offered so much as a cup of rancid ale at Gull Shadow."

Arthur studied the 'map' drawn in the dust and ash by the hearth and thanked his new friend. They then went on to talk of the weather and the market until, by mutual they consent, they found a place to spread their cloaks and lay down to sleep.

Surprisingly, Arthur slept well. Finally the end of his journey was in sight and whatever the outcome, at least his search was over. Maybe by tomorrow night he would be riding home to Camelot, safe in the knowledge that Columb was not related to him in any way.

When the movement of servants building up the fire, woke Arthur the next morning, he took his acquaintance's advice and eagerly partook in the breakfast that was laid out for the travellers.

Once fed, he hurried to the stables and saddled Tilly.

The weather was fair and not cold. However as he headed towards the coast, the wind picked up and despite the season, Arthur wrapped his cloak around him.

The 'Hanging tree' was easy to find and from there he travelled through marshy ground, spotted with stagnant pools of water and dead bleached trees.

In amongst the dead trees were a few wretched dwellings. Smoke rising slowly from some of them, made it clear that they were inhabited, but Arthur neither saw nor heard anyone.

He wondered if people were watching him and encouraged Tilly into a trot, eager to be away from the bleached trees.

When he finally emerged from the ghostly forest, he found himself once again on the coast. He rode straight towards the edge of a rocky cliff and looking down, finally saw what he had been looking for. Gull Shadow!

It was just as the merchant had described, a dark, sunless forbidding place, deeply shaded by the high rocks and cliffs that surrounded it. Mist drifted around its black walls and at times, the tower almost seemed to disappear.

There was a path down towards the steps that led up to an iron-studded door and Arthur guided a cautious Tilly slowly down towards the sea.

Almost at sea level, he could see a low, rough building that housed three upturned skiffs. Two ponies were also corralled inside.

Smoke drifted up from the far end of the ramshackle construction and Arthur could see that it was also used as a kitchen. A cauldron of some sort of food stuff, hung over a slowly burning fire and the smell of onions and fish hung in the moist air.

Arthur entered cautiously, expecting that there might be a groom or someone to tend to the animals and the fire, but the building was deserted.

He slid off Tilly and tied her up next to the ponies so that she could share a manger, full off damp looking straw. Then he began to climb the steep steps to the tower entrance.

There was a knocker, shaped like a hammer, although it was so rusty, it looked as if it could fall off at any minute. Nevertheless, Arthur pounded it against the door and stood back, looking up against the windows. The narrow windows were all glazed, with scratched glass, but they were dirty and smeared with seagull droppings.

After a significant pause, a man leaned out of one of the windows, above. He was thin and did not look as it he had seen soap and water for a decade.

"Wha' d'you want?"

"I have come to see Turgot Troelson. This is his tower….is it not?"

The dirty man scowled.

"Wha' if it tis? He ain't 'ere."

"Will he be back soon?"

"Days…..maybe or weeks. 'ho knows?"

"Is there anyone else, I could speak to? My business is urgent."

The dirty man seemed to consider this for a moment.

"'is son be 'ere…..if you wan' talk to 'im."

Arthur considered this option. Maybe if he spoke to the son, he would get a proper estimate of when Turgot was likely to return. He could then decide whether to stay and wait for him, or return here at a later date.

He made his decision.

"Yes, I will speak to his son, if he is available."

The man nodded and disappeared back inside.

After what seemed like an inordinately long time, there was the unmistakable sound of bolts being drawn back and finally, the door was opened.

The servant stood back and Arthur stepped inside. If he had expected it to be warmer inside, he was disappointed. It was colder than a winter's day.

The room he found himself in was circular and bigger than he had imagined. The floor was covered with greasy looking sealskins and the walls hung with antlers and the huge tusks of walruses and narwhales. On the opposite side of the room from the door, was a stone staircase. It led both down to a floor below and up through the ceiling to the next floor.

The servant indicated that Arthur should follow him and led the way up the stairway.

As Arthur stepped out into the room above, the first person he saw was a woman.

She was a tall as Arthur, with huge brown eyes and long shining hair that fell to her waist. If Arthur had, been asked to describe the colour of her hair he would have found it impossible. It was neither black nor brown, but a kind of pewter colour, the like of which he had never seen.

He was about to introduce himself, when he realised that this strange woman was wearing a metal collar around her neck. It was bolted with a rusty padlock and her clothes were clearly those of some lowly servant. Unlike the male servant, who smelled of sweat and onions, she emitted a smell that was like the ocean outside. It was strangely intoxicating and Arthur could not help pausing for a second to stare at this strange female.

She was obviously a slave and Arthur abhorred slavery. It was banned in Albion and Arthur made a mental note to make that fact crystal clear to Turgot, when he finally returned to the tower.

The woman stared back, her huge eyes appearing to study him carefully. Then, without a word, she moved aside, and took up a position against the curved wall.

This upper room had at least some creature comforts, more skins on the floor and even some rugs. Wooden screens, carved with seascapes, stood close to the filthy windows. These were obviously in place of curtains, which would not have lasted long in the cold, damp atmosphere. There was a long table with a bench and chairs and on a slightly raised area, there was a large carved chair. In the chair sat a young man.

His expression was anything but friendly.

"You have business with my father," he stated, his voice flat and hard, "but as you have been told, he is away from home. Tell my your name and then state your business."

Arthur walked forward and held out a hand in greeting, although no hand was offered back.

As he dropped his hand to his side, he asked with whom he was speaking.

"I am Roldan, son of Turgot. Anything you wish to say to my father, you can say to me."

Arthur sighed. This was not going to be easy.

"My name is Arthur Pendragon. Your father and I were childhood friends. My business with him is personal so, if you don't mind, I will wait for him to return. Can you tell me when you expect him home?"

Roldan's already hostile expression darkened. "I have told you, anything you wish say to say to him, you can say to me. Did you not hear me?"

Then abruptly, his expression changed, as if he had suddenly registered exactly what Arthur had said.

Suspiciously, he scrutinised Arthur's face.

"You are, who?" he demanded, "Arthur Pendragon? Surely you are not trying to tell me you are the exalted King of Albion?"

"I am," answered Arthur, inwardly wondering if giving his true name had really been a good idea.

"Your father and I grew up together in Camelot."

"And YOUR father threw MY grandfather and MY father out of Camelot. I hardly think that my father would have anything to say to you."

"And yet I need to speak to him and so if you can just let me know when you expect him back, I won't waste anymore of your precious time."

Roldan's eyes narrowed.

"If you really are, Arthur Pendragon, where are your knights? Why would the king of Albion be dressed so plainly and travelling alone?"

Arthur considered. He would hardly be wise to give this suspicious and aggressive young man any hint of what he actually wanted to talk to Turgot about.

"I am not alone," he lied. "My knights are close by. I had business at Dunster, but realising that Tugot's residence was so close, I decided to pay him a visit."

Roldan's hand went to the hilt of his sword and Arthur began to feel uneasy. He glanced around the room, familiarising himself with the layout, just in case a speedy exit was needed. The servant who had let him in, seemed to have disappeared, although the slave woman was still standing against the wall. Her huge eyes glittered and Arthur had the strangest feeling that she was trying to communicate with him.

Was she warning him to be careful? He turned his attention rapidly back to, Roldan.

"You will state your business, now!" barked the young man, suddenly getting to his feet.

His chair knocked against the stone wall behind him and Arthur's hand instinctively went to the handle of his own weapon.

This meeting was not going at all well. Time to retreat. There was definitely something creepy about this place and he could see no point in wasting anymore time, trying to have a sensible conversation with Turgot's son.

"I will not trouble you further," he said, making it clear that this conversation had come to an end.

Unfortunately, before he could turn and leave, something struck him on the back of the head and everything went black.

When Arthur opened his eyes. It was dark and for a few seconds he could see nothing at all. His head hurt badly and as he put his hand up, he felt his hair, matted with blood. He winced as his fingers found the source of the bleeding, a long wound on the back of his head. The gods alone knew what he had been hit with, but the gash in his scalp went deep.

He was lying on a filthy straw mattress, which smelt strongly of damp and mould. Even so Arthur was glad of it, for without it, he would have been lying on cold hard stone.

For several moments he lay still, trying to get his eyes accustomed to the dark and eventually he was rewarded by a glimmer of light off to his left. As he concentrated on this area, he came to the conclusion that it was starlight, shining through some outlet to the outside world. This gave him some hope that when morning came, he would not be left in this desolate place, in total darkness.

He tried to understand how Turgot's son had outwitted him. But it was obvious really. He had been concentrating so much on the young man, in front of him, that he had failed to realise that the filthy servant must have re-entered the room and crept up behind him.

Barefoot, his approach had been silent and so he had caught Arthur completely off guard. It was nevertheless surprising that such a small, thin man had delivered such a devastating blow.

How, Arthur wondered, had a simple enquiry led to him being so violently attacked? Without doubt, Turgot's family had no love for the Pendragons, but to attack him so viciously seemed a complete over reaction.

Arthur brushed the dirt off his plain clothes. Dressed as he was, he should never have given his real name. Roldan must have seen right through his lie about his knights being close by otherwise he would never have dared to take Arthur prisoner. He had rightly guessed the clandestine nature of Arthur's journey and was thus happy to put the most powerful king in the land, into his dungeon.

Arthur cursed his own stupidity. Now he would be forced to wait until Tugot returned and when he did, what would happen then?

Turgot could not hope to hold off an army from Camelot, but if no one knew Arthur was here, Turgot could do with him as he pleased.

It was possible that Turgot would be furious with his son, for treating Arthur so badly, but something told Arthur that this was unlikely.

Turgot had always been prone to lies and half truths and it seemed that he had made sure that his offspring knew that there was only one family who were responsible for his family's misfortunes and that was, the Pendragons.

The hatred in Roldan's eyes had surely come from years on indoctrination on the part of his father. The Pendragons were their sworn enemies and were to be treated as such and when Turgot returned, he would have Arthur completely at his mercy.

Arthur thumped his hand against his forehead and swore. By all the gods, this had been the most foolish thing he had ever done. Whichever way he looked at it, he had placed himself in a terrible position and he was totally alone.

For a few seconds, he felt something close to panic but he calmed himself enough to try and think through his options.

There was a chance that he could still talk himself out of this situation. Once Turgot understood the reason for Arthur's sudden reappearance in his life, surely he would be pleased to tell Arthur that he had fathered Columb. He would know the effect this would have on Arthur and would revel in the embarrassment and the problems that would follow.

Maybe that would be enough for Turgot…well that and some sort of pay off that would allow Turgot to regain his former position in society. If Gull Shadow really was all that remained of the family fortune, then surely money and status would be something that Turgot would at least consider.

But would Turgot trust Arthur not to take his revenge on him, once he was free? It was doubtful. More likely Turgot would be terrified of reprisals and as a consequence would never risk allowing Arthur to return to Camelot.

On the other hand, maybe Turgot would try and ransom him.

But even if a ransom were paid, Turgot would be afraid of being discovered. He might collect the ransom, but he would hardly release Arthur back into the world, only for him to come after Turgot and attack Gull Shadow with an army of knights.

No, the more Arthur thought about it, the more he could see only one end. He would die at the hands of the man he had once regarded as some sort of a friend. He would never know if he had fathered Faylinn's son, nor would he ever get the chance to explain to Gwen or his children how such a thing had occurred.

His family and friends would forever wonder why he had left without a word of goodbye. They would search for him, but they would never find him. The people dearest to him in the whole world would spend the rest of their lives wondering how and why he had just disappeared from Camelot.

As he realised the enormity of what all those who cared about him would face, tears filled his eyes. They trusted him. They thought him brave and honourable. They thought him a great king, a leader of men. His sons especially, looked up to him and tried to model themselves on him. What would they do now that he was gone?

And then, once again he thought of Merlin? How many sacrifices had Merin made for him? Arthur had mocked him and treated with distain for years, and yet Merlin had still stayed close to him and in the darkest hours, saved Arthur from certain death. If Arthur died now, at Turgot's hand, it would all have been for nothing.

Arthur put his head in his hands. By his foolish decision, to try and sort out an embarrassing problem alone, he had ruined everything.

Arthur rubbed his hands angrily over his eyes. He couldn't just give up. There had to be a way out of this situation.

Slowly, he got to his feet and with hands outstretched and stumbling steps, he moved towards the source of the light.

The hard stone wall slanted outwards to an opening guarded by horizontal bars. Standing close the wall Arthur could just see the stars in the night sky. If he reached up he could touch the bars of his prison. They were cold and wet and as far as Arthur could tell, they were pretty firmly fixed into the masonry; they were however corroded by the constant exposure to the salty air.

He found himself wondering how long it might take to chip away at the stone work with his belt buckle. Unless they gave him a spoon when they fed him, his buckle was the only piece of metal he had.

He sighed. Who was to say he would even be fed at all, while he rotted here in this cell. Turgot's son might just leave him here to starve.

Fortunately Arthur felt anything but hungry.

In pain? Yes.

Sick? Yes.

Afraid? Definitely.

His wound throbbed and his hands shook and he felt as close to complete despair as he had ever felt in his life.

With nothing else to do, he felt his way back to the dirty mattress and lay down on his side. He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. Maybe when he awoke to a new day, he would look at things differently. Turgot might return and he might have a chance to talk himself out of this dreadful place.

Despite the ghastly surroundings, Arthur, he did eventually fall into a restless sleep.

When he awoke, weak sunshine was just managing to light the cell and a torch had been lit in the corridor outside. For the first time he could properly take the measure of his prison.

It was larger than he had expected, but bare of furniture. Apart from the mattress on which he had slept, there was only a, lidded barrel in the corner. This was clearly meant as some sort of toilet facility and Arthur wrinkled his nose at the thought of being trapped in this space next to his own waste.

He thought he heard something in the corridor and struggled to his feet.

Standing outside his cell was the same female slave, he had seen in the upper chamber. Immediately Arthur questioned her.

"Has Turgot returned?" he demanded.

The slave stared at him, expressionless.

"I've brought you food," she said shoving a plate of dry bead and three small wrinkled apples under the bars. To this she added a dirty, leather water pouch.

Her voice was strange, almost harsh as if it was difficult for her to enunciate the words. But before Arthur had time to say anything more, she simply turned around and walked back the way she had come.

Like the dirty servant who had struck him, the woman was barefoot and as she walked her steps were almost silent.

But Arthur could not let her leave without a word of reply.

He ignored the food and water, and pressed his face against the bars.

"I need to speak to Roldan. Has Turgot returned? Answer me, woman! Has Turgot come back?"

But the slave just kept walking. However, just before she disappeared round the corner at the end of the corridor, she looked back, for just a moment.

The expression in her huge brown eyes looked almost like empathy.

"Come back," Arthur called, but his cries just echoed back to him and he was once again alone.

He hit his head against the bars in frustration, an action that did nothing for the headache, which was already blurring his vision and vibrating in his scull. He swayed against the cold metal and leant down to pick up the food and drink.

He would force himself to eat. He had to keep his strength up.

He took his victuals back to the mattress and started shoving the stale bread into his mouth. It stuck to his gums, but the water carrier was not so large and so he kept chewing and finished the apples as well, before allowing himself to drink. The water had a strange metallic taste, but it was cold and therefore refreshing.

With his 'meal' finished, he lay down again, careful to lie on his side and keep his wound away from the dirty mattress. From his position against the wall, he could study his surroundings properly.

The cell was stone on three sides with the forth side, bars, from floor to ceiling. Although this meant he could have no privacy from anyone in the corridor, at least it stopped him from feeling claustrophobic. Arthur had always hated closed in spaces and even if the air was cold, Arthur preferred that to being shut in somewhere airless and without any access to natural light. Outside he could hear the relentless ebb and flow of the waves. This part of the tower was built into the rock and Arthur hoped that the sea would never rise so far as to flood his cell.

As he continued to size up his prison, he noticed for the first time, some old sacks on the floor by the bars. Maybe these had been thrown into the cell while he slept and were meant to provide him with some sort of covering. He was at once glad of them and worried. If they were concerned about him freezing to death, someone was plainly planning to keep him for a long time. A few leaves were already falling from the trees, and although winter was still some way off, Autumn was coming. Were they really planning to keep him until the snow was blowing into his cell?

Arthur shivered at the thought of it.

"Oh Merlin," he whispered, "Why did think I could do this alone? I am a fool….a bloody stupid fool!"

Arthur had lost track of time. How many days had he spent in this damp and horrible place? Seven days, eight or even longer? He had no idea. What he did know was that his head wound was not healing. The throbbing pain was his constant companion and when he tentatively touched his wound, he found signs of infection on his dirty fingers.

He had torn a strip off his shirt and used some of his precious water to try and clean the wound. It would have been the first thing that Merlin would have insisted on. But the attempted washing of the wound had done nothing and with hardly anything to eat and drink, Arthur found that his strength was ebbing away. He could have managed on the meagre rations if he had been fully fit. He was a strong man, in his prime and he had long ago got used to making do with very little, when the situation demanded it. But now he felt ill and dizzy all the time.

Despite his weakness, every night when the torch in the corridor was doused, Arthur used his belt buckle to try and gouge the stonework round one of the bars. The stone had turned out to be far more crumbly than he had at first thought. Unfortunately, he thought his buckle would probably give way before he could make any meaningful progress. Nevertheless, he had to try.

His cell door had been opened only once and then the filthy servant had entered with three large, armed men. The three thugs had restrained Arthur while the servant had removed the barrel and replaced it with an empty one. Arthur had struggled hard against the mens' vice like hold on him, but he had no energy. Everything he did was an effort and he was no match for his jailors.

As they threw him back onto the mattress and left the cell, they were laughing at him.

"The great King Arthur?" said one of them. "Not so 'great' now!".

Left alone again, Arthur was forced to acknowledge the hopelessness of his situation. Not for one single day since his incarceration had begun, had he felt well. He would wake every day with the hope that he would finally start to feel better, only to realise that he still felt ill. Sometimes he felt so dizzy he would spend practically all day lying on the nasty mattress with his eyes closed. As Arthur had always enjoyed good health, he simply did not understand why he could not get better.

Every day the hours passed slowly and Arthur had endless time to ponder his situation. If Turgot did eventually return to his tower, It seemed highly unlikely that he would let Arthur go and if Turgot refused to release him, then Arthur had come to believe that his only hope was that someone would come and rescue him. But who could do that? Merlin?

Oh, if only Merlin would come. But Merlin probably did not even know that he was missing. There was every chance that he was still in Ealdor? What if his mother's life still hung in the balance? Hunith was Merlin's only living relative. He would not leave her side until she was out of danger and by then it might be too late.

Arthur knew he was getting weaker every day and despite his best efforts to try and stay positive, he was losing hope.

Nevertheless, he did not allow himself to give up on his efforts to dislodge the bars and so each night, when the torch was doused in the corridor, he would force himself to continue chipping away at the stone with his now, bent and twisted buckle.

Outside, the temperature was dropping and the weather had worsened. Most nights the dull moon was obscured by clouds and drizzle. This meant Arthur was forced to undertake his task mostly by feel and with cold cracked fingertips; it was not just a difficult task, but a seemingly endless one.

He liked to tell himself that this 'work' kept him warm, although in truth, he was never warm. It was still only September, but if the sun shone, its rays never seemed to find their way properly into Arthur's cell and often all that drifted through the bars, was a cloying, dank sea mist.

And Turgot's tower was as dirty as it was damp. Often Arthur would hear the scurrying feet of mice as they searched the corridor and cells for food. It was fortunate that there seemed to be no rats, for otherwise Arthur would have been afraid to sleep. Rats had been known to gnaw at the fingers and toes of sleeping prisoners and even though they were easily shaken off, they would always return.

One night, as Arthur found himself wondering why he was not plagued with these bold, greedy rodents, the answer squeezed through the bars and wandered into his cell. It was a large ginger cat.

So starved of company was Arthur, that he immediately squatted down and reached out a tentative hand to stroke the furry head. Not all cats were friendly. To his delight, this cat pushed its ginger face into his hand and began to purr. In Arthur's chilly cell, the cat felt wonderfully warm and as Arthur sat back on his mattress, he gathered the cat into his arms and held it against his chest. The cat appeared to be pleased by this attention and settled down on Arthur's lap. For the first time in what seemed like forever, Arthur felt warm.

When, some while later, the cat left the cell, Arthur felt a real sense of loss.

But he need not have worried. The following night, when all was in darkness and Arthur had finished chipping at the bars, he saw the cat's yellow eyes glowing in the faint starlight. Once again Arthur reached out a hand and the ginger cat settled on the mattress beside him.

Arthur buried his cold fingers in the cat's thick fur and despite his ever present headache and the other shivers and aches that plagued him, Arthur fell asleep almost immediately.

And after that it was the same every night. During the day, Arthur would glimpse his new friend prowling the corridors and hear her despatching her prey with her strong claws. But when night fell, she would squeeze through the bars into Arthur's cell and settle down beside him and Arthur would know that no mouse or cockroach would bother him.

'Cat', as Arthur had rather unimaginatively named his new friend, had already gone when he received a new visitor. With his furry friend warming him, Arthur slept much more deeply than he had in the first days of his captivity and so he did not immediately wake when someone came to speak to him. It was only when his name was shouted, that he roused himself from his mattress.

As with every morning, the world spun as he sat up and it was several seconds before he realised that a new face was looking in through the bars of his cell.

Turgot!

He was shaven headed, with a hideous scar that ran the length of his left cheek, but it was still unmistakably Arthur's boyhood friend.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," said Turgot in a mocking voice. "To think that the great Arthur Pendragon is my guest. I don't know how my humble home can cope with such an honour."

Arthur's vision blurred and he blinked hard to clear it. When he spoke, his voice sounded like that of an old man.

"Tugot," he rasped, "have you finally come to release me?"

Turgot grinned, the same smug grin that Arthur remembered from so long ago.

"Release you? Is my tower not to your taste? I suppose it is a bit inferior to the great Camelot isn't it?"

"Let me out, Turgot. I've come only for information Tell me what I need to know and there will be no repercussions for the way your son has treated me. I only want a truthful answer to one question."

Turgot sneered at him. "You came all this way just to ask a question? Huh! What might of that be?"

Arthur tried to gather his thoughts. But it was difficult. His felt so unsteady and light headed..

"I just need to ask you what…what really happened the day of the picnic….when Faylinn was in Camelot, when I was sixteen. You remember….I don't. Tell me….please. I want nothing else from you…..nor do I care about the…the…treatment your son has given me. He has no reason to trust me or listen to me. But please, it can mean nothing to you, now. Just tell me, …what happened that day?"

Turgot stared at Arthur, appraising him as if he were a nothing more than a prize bull.

He laughed mirthlessly. "You came to me for that? The great king of Camelot? Why would you care what you did when you were sixteen? You're a king. Are you mad?"

His eyes narrowed, "But there must be a reason, mustn't there? What has happened that you worry so much about one day in your youth?"

Arthur licked his dry lips and tried to think how to answer. Should he tell the truth and if not the truth, what other possible reason could he give? His mind was blank. It was the truth or nothing.

"Faylinn," he began, "she came to Camelot with her son. She claims he is mine."

He'd said it now, hopefully without the desperation in his voice that he felt in his heart.

Turgot's ravaged face assumed an expression of surprise.

"Faylinn? She is in Camelot? And is she still as lovely as she was all those years ago? Or has the passing of time robbed her of her appeal?"

Arthur shrugged, trying very hard not to let Turgot know just how important his answers might be.

"She is still an attractive woman, I suppose, but she must be in her thirties. We were all of an age, were we not, when we met in Camelot?"

Turgot wrinkled his top lip and Arthur felt the intensity of his unfriendly stare. Turgot was in fact nearly a year older than Arthur and yet even now, when Arthur was so dirty and ill looking, he was still the more attractive man by far.

The years had been kind to Arthur. Despite being teased constantly by Merlin about getting too fat, Arthur could still buckle his belt in the same hole as he has had in his twenties and whereas Turgot had a hefty gut hanging over his belt and had clearly lost his blond curls, Arthur's hair was as thick as ever. He could easily pass for a man seven or eight years younger than his actual age.

"Well," said Turgot viciously, "no woman, past thirty is much to look at, so I doubt she is any different."

He paused for a minute, rubbing his hand over the stubble on his chin. Then he spoke slowly as if feeling his way through the conversation and trying to understand the ramifications of what he might say.

"And she says that her son is yours does she? What do you think Arthur? Does he look like you? Does he have the noble characteristics of the great Arthur Pendragon or is he a lesser man? Is that why you do not wish to own him?"

Arthur stifled a miserable sigh.

"I know nothing of his character. I have barely spoken to him. He is fair haired and blue eyed, but so are many in these lands. It means little. What I want to know is; COULD he be mine? I remember nothing of that afternoon, though I have often tried to recall the events.

Whatever you put in our drinks robbed me of all sense. For all I know I could have danced naked round the fire or done cartwheels through the forest. You, on the other hand, seem to know exactly what happened and the only reason I have come to bother you, is to find out whether this young man could be my son or not. Will you tell me?"

Turgot gave another mirthless laugh, which made Arthur shiver. Turgot had never really been an attractive personality, always sly and secretive with a cruel side to everything he did. Whatever his answer, if he knew how important it was to Arthur to know the truth, he would undoubtedly lie and dissemble. He would want to keep Arthur on a string, to keep him guessing, to make things as difficult for him as possible.

But then Turgot surprised him.

"I put way too much of my 'happiness potion' in your drink," he snorted, "Eostre wanted to have her wicked way with you, but when she tried, you were useless to her. You just lay on the blanket grinning like a fool. Faylinn too, was enamoured with your boyish good looks and under the influence of my deliciously improved Mead, she threw caution to the wind and kissed you as if you were her one true love…..for all the good it did her.

No kisses could rouse you. You just kept staring at the tees and wondering at the colours of the leaves. With two attractive girls throwing themselves at you, any normal red-blooded man would have taken advantage, but not you. Maybe I should have brought you boys?"

Arthur scowled.

"So Faylinn's son cannot be mine,"

Turgot grinned nastily.

"No Arthur…not a chance. If he is anyone's other than Faylinn's esteemed husband, then he is mine! He is half brother to my, Roldan. Clever boy! He saw immediately that you were lying when you said that your knights were nearby. He did check, by the way. But really, Arthur, you were clearly NOT dressed as a king, so you obviously had something to hide and Roldan saw straight through you. You of all people should know, Arthur, dirty secrets have a way of finding their way into the public domain. How long did your precious, sanctimonious father keep the secret of your sister Morgana's birth?

At the mention of Morgana's name, Arthur winced. Nevertheless, he sighed with relief. He had not dishonoured the young Faylinn and now he owed her nothing, although he knew, if he ever had the chance, he would try and help her.

"That was all I needed to know, Turgot, so now, if you will just let me out of this filthy hole, I will be on my way."

"Oh you will, will you? And how long before you return with your famous knights to drag me back to Camelot, to be tried for kidnapping the king?"

"Turgot, if you just let me leave, there will be no ramifications for my enforced stay."

Turgot regarded him coldly.

"Is that a fact? Let me tell you Arthur….sorry, KING Arthur that I care nothing for 'your word'. Even if I did trust you to keep it, I have my own plans for you.

My son did well to detain you. But of course he would never have welcomed you into our home. He is well aware of how our family has fallen and he knows exactly who to blame for it.

So, my former friend, in a few days someone will arrive at your famous capital and demand the payment of a large ransom for the return of their king."

"If you require payment….", began Arthur, "I can…"

"Do I require payment? Oh I certainly do. My father was a Knight of Camelot, until your father banished him. When we left Camelot, we were practically penniless. This godforsaken tower is all that remains of the family estates, this and the few acres of rock and salt marshes that surround it. Were it not for the fishing, we would starve for at least half the year. I need money, Arthur, far more than you would ever be prepared to give me. So, you will be my guest for many months to come. Once I have received the first ransom, I will require a second. I may well need to provide 'proof of life' for that, so don't worry. I will not leave you to starve to death."

He gave an unpleasant grin.

"As long as you live, Arthur, I hope I can continue to squeeze money out of your devoted subjects."

"Why would anyone continue to pay, if I am not returned?" said Arthur angrily. "My people will assume I am dead. They will come for you."

"Oh, no, no, no. No-one will know that it is I, who has kidnapped you. The person who takes word of your captivity to Camelot will know nothing of me, nor will they know where you are held. And when proof that you still live, is required, no one will not have sight of you, here. You will be taken to an abandoned fortress on an island. Living by the sea, one thing I do have, is men who can sail. My men are as loyal to me, as yours are to you. They also fear me. Not one of them will either disobey my orders or betray me. In this wretched part of this land, they live by my magnanimity.

But I will no longer live hand to mouth. I will regain the wealth my family once owned and you, Arthur, will be the way I will do it. You will pay tenfold, for the actions of your father."

Arthur moved closer to the bars, so that he could look Turgot in the eye.

"Your father was the architect of his own downfall. He alone was responsible for his debts and his inability to repay them. Had he not spent all his free hours in the tavern, gambling away his family fortune, you would never have been reduced to this savage life. Nothing your father did was in accordance with the Knight's Code. He was not worthy to be a Knight of Camelot."

"Pah! My father was a bloody fool, but your father was no better. He was an arrogant, puffed up, brawler. He had no 'right' to Camelot. He fought for it and took it from the family whose ancestral lands it had been for centuries. And yet he had such HIGH standards for everyone else. What a pathetic hypocrite!"

Arthur bit back a retort. He had loved his father, but he had not been blind to his father's faults….which had been many. Instead he tried a different approach.

"If you had asked me for help, I could have given it. You were gone from Camelot before I even realised what had happened."

"By the time we were thrown out of the citadel, you had ceased to even acknowledge me. You were far too busy being the 'perfect' prince. I wasn't good enough to be in the same room as you. You even stopped speaking to Eostre and she resented that. She resented it mightily."

Even now just the mention of Eostra brought back unpleasant memories , but Arthur had to ask. Maybe if he could speak to Eostre, he would be able to persuade her to help him.

"What of your sister? Does she live here too?"

"My sister is married. I have not seen her for years. Her husband and I have no love for each other."

Arthur's heart sank, but he tried one last argument.

"Look Turgot, if you let me go, I will provide you with the money you need to buy back your lands. You say you have men at your command, but I see only poverty here and deprivation. This place is not a fit home for a nobleman, let alone a knight of Camelot. But if you agree to abide by the Knight's Code, you can even return to Camelot and resume the rank once held by your father."

"Oh, so kind, Arthur, so very kind. No chance of me being one of your precious 'Knights of your famous round table', of course. No I would just be, one of the lower ranking knights in your fabulous court. No thank you! I will be my own man. I will rule my own lands and I will pay homage to NO-ONE!

No KING Arthur, I will NOT free you. You will remain in my charge and go where I send you, for as long as I please. When I have sufficient monies, I will leave this filthy place and cross the seas to find a new home."

With that, Turgot turned on his heel and strode down the corridor. As the sound of his footsteps faded, Arthur slumped against the bars. He was trapped and as far as he could see, he had little or no chance of escape.

But when night fell and Cat returned to his cell, Arthur left off working at the bars with his buckle and sat on his mattress. His 'work' though not proving particularly productive had given him time to think. IF Turgot carried through his plans, then at some time, hopefully in the not too distant future, Arthur would be taken from this cell and on a sea voyage. Arthur could swim. He could swim well. Maybe he would find a way to hurl himself into the ocean and escape his captors. He would have to remain strong and healthy for such a plan to work and he was not confident that he could do that. But it was something to look forward to, something to give him hope.

Cat nudged his hand with her ginger head and Arthur's spirits lifted for the first time since his captivity. He WAS being fed, even if the food was poor quality and sparse and he had Cat to keep him warm. Even if winter came before he left this place, he would not freeze to death. Maybe if he were very lucky, Merlin would find him.

On a whim he spoke into the darkness.

"Merlin, can you hear me? IF your mother is well, can you use your powers to find me?"

For a moment, he wondered why he had not done this before. Maybe it was because he did not really believe that such an appeal could work. Merlin could send his thoughts across the world to the great dragon and communicate with the beast even if hundreds of miles separated the two of them.

But Arthur had no magic powers and he did not think he had the power to communicate with Merlin in that way. The truth was, he and Merlin, were as FAR apart, as they had ever been. He was many, many miles from Ealdor and even further from Camelot and he had told no one his true plans. He had searched for days to find Turgot's lair and if he had not chanced upon the merchant at Dunster Castle, he felt sure he would have passed by Gull Shadow, without even noticing it.

Then, there was Hunith to think about. Not for all the world, would Arthur risk her life, by calling Merlin away from her side.

"Forgive me, Merlin, for the mistakes of my youth," he whispered into the night. "Forgive me for making all the sacrifices you have made for me, so utterly pointless."

Merlin awoke from a restless sleep. He sat up in alarm, trying to shake the sleep from his fuzzy head.

Arthur was calling for him.

To his amazement, his mother put a hand on his shoulder. She was standing beside his bed, looking down at him.

"What is it, Merlin? Were you having a nightmare?"

"Mother, you are standing? Thank the gods! How long have you been out of bed?"

"Just a few moments."

"Oh Mother, I can hardly believe it. I thought…..I thought….but here you are! Let me take you back to bed. I will stoke up the fire and warm you some soup. You need food."

His mother swayed slightly and Merlin leapt to his feet to steady her.

"I am much better, my dear and I suspect that is entirely down to your efforts. Thank you for coming to Ealdor. If you have saved my life, then I am sure you will have saved the lives of many others."

She smiled at him as he helped back into bed.

"What it is, to have a son like you," she said, "sometimes I can hardly believe that you are really mine."

"I'm afraid I am, Mother and as I am, I am going to make absolutely sure that you are well, before I leave you."

He went to the fire and began to add logs. With just a word from him, the flames blazed high and the pot of soup hanging over the fire quickly began to bubble. His mother watched him spoon hot soup into a bowl and as he sat on the side of her bed, she asked,

"What is it you were dreaming about? You called out Arthur's name.

Merlin held out a spoonful of soup for Hunith to sip.

"I thought I heard him calling out for me….and he sounded so….so….lonely….so sad. When I left, he was fine. Everything was going well in the capital, so I do not understand why…"

His voice trailed away.

"You must go to him," said Hunith, immediately." I know it was just a dream, but I know how close you two are. He needs you. You must go back to Camelot."

Merlin shook his head.

"You need me, mother. You are not as young as you used to be. Arthur has all his knights and although I believe Morgana has found a way to cheat death, I believe her power is weak. Bear in mind we have Sir Bedivere and Sir Lamorak sending us supplies and news. We are not so far from Camelot that word would not be sent to them if there was trouble brewing."

He looked away into the flames of the fire.

"Maybe…maybe, it was just a dream."

Hunith gave a resigned smile. Her son was only trying to convince himself that there was no need to return to Camelot, out of loyalty to her. It warmed her heart to think how much he loved her. But she could not allow him to linger in Ealdor if there was no need. He was Arthur's advisor and he had responsibilities.

She pulled herself up into a more upright position. She was still weak, but she knew she was out of danger.

"I am certainly not as young as I used to be," she told Merlin, "but before this sickness came to the village, I was still fit and strong and I am sure that I will be again. I just need time to rest. You however, must attend to your duties. You heard Arthur calling for YOU, Merlin. How you heard him, I have no idea, but I know you well enough to be sure that it was no dream that woke you. Rather it was a cry for help from your dearest friend."

She squeezed Merlin's hand.

"If my neighbours are recovered then they can assist me until I am back to my normal strength. You are needed elsewhere. As soon as it is light, go back to Camelot."

Merlin continued to spoon soup for his mother, but already his mind was somewhere else.

As his mother lay back against her pillows, Merlin went out into the night. He walked to the horse trough and as he looked down into the still, black water, he said Arthur's name and the words for 'finding'.

In the water at first he saw only darkness, but then he saw the faintest gleam in a pair of golden eyes. Merlin blinked, staring harder. He was surely looking at the eyes of a cat. He looked deeper into the darkness and slowly the prone figure of Arthur appeared. He had his arm around the owner of the luminous eyes. An unexpected smile touched Merlin's lips. To his knowledge, Arthur had never owned a pet and yet there was definitely something between this animal and the king.

As if on cue, the cat licked Arthur's fingers and Merlin saw a weary smile cross Arthur's pale face.

And he was pale and thin too. He looked positively ill. In fact Merlin had not seen him look so bad since their ill-fated journey to the lake of Avalon, a journey that had almost ended in Arthur's death.

Only the magical intervention of the ruler of the Isle of Avalon had saved Arthur on that occasion. She had sent a boat to intercept the one into which Merlin had placed Arthur's body. The pilot of the boat had torn the fragment of sword from Arthur's chest and by doing so, enabled Arthur to breathe again.

Just thinking about that day made Merlin shiver. As he took in the watery image before him, all hints of a smile disappeared. Wherever Arthur was, he was very unwell and by the looks of the picture in the water, apart from his animal friend, he was alone. Merlin leaned closer to the water, trying to see the more clearly. He could see practically nothing behind Arthur and the only thing, which could be lighting this picture, was moonlight. There were no candles and as he looked harder, something like mist seemed to blot out all the detail. Merlin stretched out his fingers, muttering words to clear the mist, but it thickened and then there was nothing to see but water.

A feeling of dread ran down Merlin's spine. Wherever Arthur was, it was cold and damp and Arthur would never linger in such a place by choice. It had to be some kind of prison cell. Merlin's blood ran cold. He must go back to Camelot. He had been so wrapped up in coping with the sick of Ealdor, he had hardly thought of Arthur. How had he been so lax?

He looked back towards his mother's house. Although not fully fit, she was no longer in danger. Of those whom he had nursed from the beginning of their illness, none had died. In all probability, with the right care, they would recover. He had trained others in what was needed and he was sure they could now manage without him.

He had discovered the source of the illness, poisoned food and as he had stood over the contaminated food stuffs, he had sensed the origins of the poison.

Morgana!

Somehow, like Arthur she had found a way to live again. Her power was obviously not as great as it had been otherwise she would not have resorted to such low level meddling. But the fact remained she was out there, somewhere and Merlin would have to be on is guard.

Back in the house, he watched his mother. Her eyes were closed, her breathing soft and even. She was well on the road to a full recovery.

She was one of the kindest people Merlin had ever known and always helped her friends and neighbours whenever she could. Merlin could leave her now, in the care of those friends and know that no harm would come to her as the result of his absence.

Long before first light, he had saddled his horse and was galloping back towards Camelot. But in the few minutes before he set off, he paused and spoke into the night.

Softly, he began to chant and from his fingertips a stream of golden light spread out into the night and circled the village.

"Good luck getting through that!" he muttered angrily. Then as the light died, he looked out into the darkness beyond the village.

"Arthur," he whispered, "I have heard you. Do not despair. I am coming. I will find you."

Far away something changed in Arthur's dingy cell. Outside, clouds covered the moon and the stars and within the damp walls of the cell, Arthur could barely see anything at all. Cat was in his arms, snuggled against his chest, purring softly, but everything else was black and cold.

From nowhere something like starlight filtered through the barred exit to the outside world. A flurry of stars seemed to light the shadows and a faint image glimmered in the night.

Arthur stared in astonishment. Although he could hardly believe it, he felt sure he could see an image of Merlin, standing before him. The image moved and shimmered and not for a moment did Arthur believe that Merlin was actually standing in his cell. But he was THERE. He had heard Arthur's cry for help.

For only a few seconds Merlin's face shimmered in the strange light, but in those few seconds, Merlin spoke.

"I am coming. I will find you."

And then the image was gone. Darkness closed in around Arthur like a black wall. He strained his eyes to see some ghost of the light that had breached the blackness of the night, but there was nothing. Nevertheless, Arthur felt a surge of hope. Merlin had heard him. Against all the odds, his futile attempt to contact his friend had succeeded.

"Did you see him?" he whispered into the Cat's ears, "he was here, wasn't he? I didn't dream it, did I? I AM awake!"

As if to try and reassure him, Cat licked his fingers and burrowed closer against his chest.

Despite his bleak situation Arthur felt some of the tension leave his body. He was cold and he was hungry, but still that feeling, the feeling he hadn't felt in a long time, filled his mind.

Hope!

There was yet a chance that he would escape this dreadful place. Merlin was out there looking for him and if anyone could find him, it would be Merlin.

He sighed and his eyes closed. In just a few minutes Arthur was sleeping, peacefully. For a few moments longer Cat blinked her golden eyes, staring round the cell, warning nothing to come close. Then she too closed her eyes and slept.

Merlin barely paused at the gates to the citadel. It was still early morning and the huge gates, to the castle was firmly bolted.

As Merlin galloped towards them he flung out his hand. With no assistance from the bemused gate-keepers, the huge staff of wood that barred the gates, lifted from it's metal brackets and clattered to the ground, rolling to one side as the gates sprang open.

In the yard beyond, Merlin slid off his horse's back and took the steps into the castle two at a time. He raced down the corridor to the family apartments. He did not waste time knocking but barged in, calling for Arthur. The room was empty, as he had expected it to be and so was the bedchamber beyond.

He did an about turn and continued down the seemingly endless corridors to the apartments of The Kings Lieutenant, Sir Leon.

Here, he did take the time to knock and it was a few long minutes before the door was opened by a bleary-eyed servant boy.

"Your master," Merlin demanded, "Is he here?"

The boy shook his head.

"No my lord. He is gone to Kielder Castle and then he will travel to Lindisfarne. He may return any day now. Will you leave him a message?"

Merlin shook his head distractedly, trying to remember the plans that had been made before his rush to be by his mother's side.

First, he, Arthur and Sir Leon had been supposed to travel to the council meeting in the north. From there were to go on to join the rest of the Pendragons, Gawaine and Percival at Lindisfarne. The plan had been to stay several days at the tiny castle before returning en mass to Camelot.

Merlin tried to remember how many days had passed since the date for the meeting. At least twenty, probably many more. That meant that Arthur should either be at Lindisfarne, or travelling back to Camelot.

He hurried back down to the courtyard and entered the dusty shadows of the stables. Porrig, the master of the king's horses, was already up and about and busy feeding the messenger birds, which were jostling, squawking and cooing in their cages.

When Porrig saw Merlin he smiled warmly. They had been friends for many years.

"Merlin, so nice to see you back again. Is all well with your mother?"

Merlin nodded, "Yes, yes she is well on the road to recovery, but Porrig, I need to ask you, when did you last receive a message from the family at Lindisfarne?"

"Erm, I think that was two days ago, if I remember rightly. The message was from the Queen herself, asking if the king had returned to Camelot. Apparently he had not yet arrived at Lindisfarne."

Merlin felt his heart sink. He knew that he was not surprised by the news and yet he had been hoping against hope, that he had been mistaken.

He thought back to the day he had left for Ealdor. That had been nearly four weeks previously. Taking into account all the travelling time, to and from the council meeting and the days set aside for discussions, Arthur should still have arrived at Lidisfarne long ago.

"Did the king travel with Sir Leon?" Merlin asked.

Porrig frowned and shook his head.

"No, he left here with Sir Bedivere and Sir Lamorak. As I understood it, they were going to Ealdor to enquire about the state of your mother's health and to organise food and other supplies for the villagers, while so many of them were unable to work.

They left quite late in the day as I remember. They would not have got to Ealdor before nightfall. I think Sir Leon was very surprised when the next day, he realised that the king had already left, without informing him of his plans."

Merlin thumped the heel of his hand against his forehead. He'd forgotten all about the two knights, camped outside the village. They were obviously still there. Had he known that Arthur had travelled with them to Ealdor, he could have questioned them. But all the messages had come from one or other of the knights and never had Merlin been made aware that Arthur was with them. Whatever supplies the villagers needed, the knights had organised and left for the villagers to pick up once the knights had moved back to their camp. At no point had they come anywhere near the village itself.

Merlin had been delighted and relieved to receive this help. It had freed him to spend all his time nursing the sick and trying to find the source of the infection. It was entirely possible that Arthur had intended to keep his presence a secret, especially after Merlin had been so insistent that he stay away. But if the king had chosen to watch from a safe distance then why would he insist on secrecy? As long as he stayed well back from the village borders, he would have been in no danger.

"Something's happened to the king hasn't it?" said Porrig, a look of realisation dawning on his face.

Merlin started to deny it, but then thought better of it. Porrig could and would keep any secret Merlin told him.

Porrig had lived with his own secret for years. For Porrig was a horse whisperer, a man with a magical gift for communing with horses and many other animals. He could read their minds and understand their wants just as easily as if they had spoken them out loud.

Unfortunately for him, such a talent would once have been considered just another form of sorcery and in the days when sorcery had been illegal and punishable by death, Porrig had lived as Merlin had, denying and covering up his true nature.

"I fear that something has indeed befallen the king and I must find him. But I have no idea where to start. He certainly did not tell me that he was planning to follow me to my mother's village, although to be fair, I went out of my way to tell him not to come anywhere near, for fear of infection."

Merlin looked round distractedly and then something caught his eye.

A big white head had pushed over the door of one of the horses' stalls.

"Why is Diablo here?" asked Merlin. "Is he lame?"

"No, he is well, Merlin. But the king did not want to take him. He took, Tilly instead."

In his mind's eye, Merlin pictured the chestnut mare. Why would Arthur take the big brown horse when he had Diablo, a white stallion of almost legendry stamina.

True, Tilly could make the journey to Kielder with ease, for she was a powerful horse, but Diablo was a horse truly fit for a king. People were always remarking on him and Arthur had been offered ridiculous sums of money to part with him.

Merlin could think of only one reason. Arthur wanted to travel without drawing attention to himself. He wanted to travel incognito. Now the question was, why?

"Porrig," he said urgently, "has anything happened here, out of the ordinary? Have any strangers been to the castle?"

Porrig shrugged apologetically, "There have been hundreds of strangers here, for the tournament and the audience with the king."

"Of course, of course, but were you aware of anyone going away unsatisfied…..or perhaps…..anyone talking ill of the king, or any decision he might have made?"

Porrig frowned "I am not privy to such things," he said.

"Yes but you have ears, Porrig and everyone who visit's the castle must come to the stables for their horses Did you not overhear anything that you thought strange?"

Porrig thought for a minute and then he said, "There was a lady who came here with her son, to petition the king. They came from the Emerald Isle, I believe. The son left the following day with an escort of knights and men from the castle garrison, but the lady, as far as I know, she is still here. I have seen her several times crossing the courtyard. Sometimes she is with the Lady Andrea."

"And you know nothing of her petition or what her grievances were?"

Porrig shook his head.

"And what of Sir Leon?" he pressed.

"He left for Kielder days later with five knights, and fifteen bowmen, all volunteers to be billeted in the north, should the need arise"

"And apart form the message from the queen, asking if Arthur has returned here, you have heard no news from the king?"

Porrig shook his head and for the first time a look of real alarm appeared on his face.

"This is not good is it? I suppose at the time I thought it strange that the king should leave so late in the day and apparently without letting Sir Leon know that he was going. Sir Leon came to the stables the next day and asked me where the king had gone. When I told him he had gone to Ealdor, he seemed satisfied, so he must have known of the king's intentions…maybe just not the timing….?"

At that moment, they were interrupted by the clatter of hooves on the flagstones of the courtyard.

Merlin and Porrig looked out through the open doors of the stables and saw Percival jumping down from his horse.

Merlin ran to greet him. As he approached the tall knight, he looked round for Gwen and the children and Gawaine. But Percival was alone. Despite the cool of the early morning, he was sweating, as was his huge horse, Ned.

"Merlin," gasped Percival breathlessly, "you are back. Tell me, is Arthur here? Has he returned? The queen is worried sick. We waited as long as we could at Lindisfarne, but he did not come and the weather was changing for the worse. We decided the only thing to do was to come back to Camelot and hope that he had come straight here…."

"He's not here, Percival and I have no idea where he is."

"Oh, by all the Gods, this is bad news. I came ahead of the others, promising to send a messenger back to meet them to let them know that Arthur was here and now," he scrubbed his hand across his short fair hair, "now, I don't know what to do."

Merlin took Percival's arm and dragged him into the relative seclusion of the stables. The castle was waking up and servants were hurrying across the yard.

"We must keep this to ourselves. We cannot let anyone know that the king is missing. How far behind you, are Gwen and the others?"

"We stopped at the manor house in Stoneholm, Sir Gilbert's residence, but I imagine Gwen will insist on an early start. We were all uneasy when Arthur failed to arrive at Lindisfarne with Leon. After a few days waiting for him to arrive, everyone was getting worried. That is when we sent the bird south to Camelot."

Merlin thought quickly.

"Get yourself something to eat and drink and then ride back out to meet the family. Joanna is with you?" Percival nodded, "Yes and we have brought six horses for the garrison. Joanna can manage the horses herself and I am sure that the others are not far behind me. I left at first light and Gwen told me she was planning to follow just as soon as the children were up and had breakfasted."

"But we must meet them before they reach Camelot. We have to warn them that Arthur is missing. I will come with you. I must persuade them all to act as if everything is normal. They must not arouse the suspicions of the courtiers. How long has Arthur been away now…..four weeks? More? He has been gone longer than that on occasion. So as long as we act as if everything is normal, we have time to find him and get him back safely to the castle before his subjects know that he is missing."

It was very hard for Gwen to maintain a cheerful expression as she rode the last few miles towards Camelot. Merlin had given her the news in private. The children were all considered too young to keep the secret and so had been told that their father had been called away on urgent business. Melora in particular, was very upset, but to Gwen's relief she appeared to accept her mother's story and on reaching the citadel, was diverted by her nanny, Sian and a new toy.

As soon as it could be arranged Gwen, Leon, Gawaine, Percival and Merlin gathered in one of the empty rooms of the castle for a meeting.

"So where do we start?" asked Gawaine, scratching his beard…Ealdor? Presumably Lamorak and Bedivere will be able to tell us what Arthur did after leaving the castle."

Leon agreed.

"Yes, that seems the best place to begin. Shall we despatch a messenger now, to ask them to return? We can ride out and meet them and then, depending on their information, either return here or take direction from them as to where Arthur might have been headed. Oh and Merlin, I am coming too. Edgar is quite capable of managing the day to day running of the castle without me and we have no royal engagements planned until November"

Merlin could see it was pointless to argue with Leon.. He had no idea how long it would take to find Arthur, but he would be happier on the search if he was accompanied by his most trusted friends.

"I have to be honest with you all," Merlin told them, "I have used magic to try and find Arthur and I have seen him."

"Seen him!" exclaimed Gwen, "Where? Why didn't you tell me?"

Merlin laid a hand on her arm.

"When I say I have seen him, I do not mean in the flesh. I have seen a kind of….vision? An image in water. He is alive, but I believe that he is in poor health and more importantly, I am sure that he is being held captive. He is somewhere dark and damp. I could not see details but I am certain he is in some kind of prison cell."

Gwen's hand flew to her mouth.

"Oh no! Surely that can't be true! Who would do such a thing?"

"There are enemies everywhere, Gwen and there are many who are jealous of Arthur's power and success."

"You said he is in poor health. Is he wounded, or does he suffer from a fever?"

"It was too dark to see. It was as if I was looking at him through a thick fog. He just looked thinner and very pale and tired. But the important thing is, Gwen, he is alive and that means we can find where he is being kept and bring him back to you."

Tears sprang into Gwen's eyes.

"Maybe I should come with you, I…"

Merlin shook his head.

"No Gwen, you must remain here. Everything must seem normal. Wherever Arthur is, he is vulnerable and without him our enemies may feel that Camelot is vulnerable too. For the safety of the kingdom and your family, no-one but ourselves must know that Arthur is missing."

"I will send riders to Ealdor right now," said Leon, springing into action. "Then once we have made our preparations, we can get going."

He disappeared into the corridor beyond, closing the door firmly behind him.

Merlin turned to Gawaine.

"Have you had time to see your lady?"

Gawaine said that he had.

"It was the first thing I did. I have missed her greatly these last few weeks. I have told her nothing of Arthur's plight, although I am absolutely sure we could trust her."

"As am I," agreed Merlin, "and I believe that she just might be able to help us. Could you find her and bring her here?"

Gawaine raised his eyebrows, "If you think she can help, I'll get her here right now."

"Apparently, there is a lady staying at the castle. She appears to be friendly with Andrea and she may be able to shed light on Arthur's situation."

Gawaine hurried to Andrea's rooms. She had still been in bed when he had first gone to find her, but now she was up and dressed and getting ready for a late breakfast. She was delighted to see Gawaine again so soon.

She reached up to kiss him and he held her close, pressing his lips against her forehead.

"My love, Merlin has sent me. It appears we may need your help."

"You mean you didn't rush back to me, just because you could you couldn't bear to be without me?"

"Well obviously, I can never bear to be without you," he smiled, "but Merlin does need you."

Andrea was intrigued and forgetting her breakfast followed Gawaine back to meet with the others.

She admitted to Merlin that she had been charged, by Arthur with keeping the visitor happy and making sure that she had everything she needed.

"How long was she expected to stay?" asked Merlin, "and did she give you any reason for being in Camelot?"

Andrea thought for a minute before answering.

"The king seemed to be in a hurry. He merely introduced the lady and said that she was his guest. Her name is Faylinn, by the way and she is the widow of a lord in the Emerald Isle. The king said nothing more that I can remember."

"But you must have spoken with this lady since," pressed Merlin, "Has she not told you the reason for her visit?"

"She said she was here on a matter of inheritance. She said that the king was assisting her, but apart from that she has been very mysterious about her reasons for being here."

"Maybe we should speak with the lady herself," suggested Leon.

"Yes maybe," agreed Percival, "but would she tell us any more than she has told Lady Andrea? We cannot force her to speak to us."

Gawaine shot a look at Andrea and made another proposal.

"Maybe I could try," he suggested.

Andrea smiled at him.

"You could try, but even your legendary charm may not be enough to find out all her secrets."

Merlin shook his head impatiently.

"We need to know what Arthur was doing and saying before he left so, if we have nobody else to question, we must speak with her."

"I know where Arthur went, after he left me with Faylinn," offered Andrea, "He went to the archives."

Merlin's worried face brightened, "Well, let's start there then."

They all hurried down to the archives and were given the records Arthur had requested weeks earlier.

They were all frustrated by the incomplete nature of the information on the whereabouts of Gull's Shadow and none of them could understand why Arthur would want to go there, let alone in secret. It really did not make sense.

"I remember, Turgot," said Leon, thoughtfully. He was a really unpleasant boy and that's putting it mildly. I never hung around with him or his friends. Well, I was several years older, but for some time, I do remember that Arthur and he were pretty close. Sad to say, I think Arthur looked up to him a bit. Turgot was an out and out bully, but he was tough and in a strange way quite charismatic. A lot of the squires and younger boys at the castle followed him around like a pack of dogs.

I remember Uthor was particularly hard on Arthur when he was in his teens. He always wanted Arthur to toughen up. I suppose it was never in Arthur's true nature to be like Turgot, but he WAS influenced by him. I am sorry to have to say this," he winced, "but for a while Arthur was really quite,,,,,erm annoying."

"Yes, I remember those days myself," answered Merlin, "but thankfully, he got over all that."

"Yes, largely thanks to your influence, Merlin," said Gwen, quickly "although underneath it all, he was always a good person."

The others agreed and none of them could think of a single reason why Arthur would want to sneak off and renew his acquaintance with someone as unpleasant as Turgot.

"But where on earth is this place?" asked Leon. "This gives us practically no clues and even though Arthur was looking at this before he disappeared, we don't actually KNOW he went there."

Merlin ran his fingers over the parchment and closed his eyes.

But even with all his magical powers, Merlin could gain no knowledge of the whereabouts of the tower from the incomplete parchment. Just as when he had sought out Arthur in the water, it was as if a thick fog was blocking his thoughts.

"Did This Turgot have magic?" Merlin asked.

Leon shrugged, "Not that I know of, but back then even if he had, it would have been the last thing he would have admitted to."

"Well," said Merlin worriedly, "I can tell you there is magic at work here. Magic, from the sea I think, but not something I have come upon before."

Merlin rolled up the parchment.

"We will take this and I will speak to this Faylinn, myself. If she will not help us willingly, I will use magic to find out what she knows."

Faylinn was staring moodily out of the window, when Merlin came to her chamber.

"You will excuse the interruption," said Merlin, briskly, "but I am afraid I need to speak with you and it is rather urgent. Please do not get up."

Merlin approached the startled Faylinn, rapidly and sat himself down in front to of her.

"Tell me why you are here?"

Faylinn opened her mouth to protest, but then found that her protestations died on her lips. Before she was even aware of what she was saying, words were spilling from her mouth.

"And you say this woman at the tavern, TOLD you to tell Arthur, that he had to recognise your son as his heir?"

Faylinn nodded, "Yes….she was most insistent. She convinced me that it was the right thing to do."

"And is Arthur the father of your son? Were you really pregnant, before you met your husband."

A shamefaced Faylinn confirmed that she had no idea who the father of her child really was, "But….but I needed help, she protested, "I had to make him help me…..I…"

"This woman…..describe her to me."

When Faylinn did as he asked, Merlin cursed.

"Gods, I should have known….Morgana!"

"Have you spoken to her since then?"

"No, there was something about her…..something that frightened me. I was really only ever going to ask Arthur to send men back with me to our lands. My son, Columb, he loved my husband…as much or more than any child could love his father. I would not have destroyed that. But that woman, she made me feel as if I HAD to ask for more than I wanted and when Arthur would not give me a definite answer and when he insisted on going in search of Turgot, before he made any decision, I knew she would be angry. I was afraid she would…."

Merlin felt a surge of pity for the woman.

"You were right to be afraid of her and in any case, I doubt she is still even in the vicinity. I did not feel her presence as I rode through the lower town.

However, Madam, you will stay here and keep your story to yourself. From now on you will eat all your meals in this room and at all costs, keep out of the way of the queen. She does not need to know of your presence. If by any chance she should learn of your existence, you can tell her that you are waiting for your son to come and escort you home to the Emerald Isle. I will find Arthur and then everything will be resolved. Do you understand me?"

Faylinn nodded. "I have been afraid to go outside the castle walls, for fear of meeting that woman again and I can assure you I will not try and leave now. Arthur has despatched men to The Emerald Isle and my son has gone with them. I will not leave without your permission…although, please, please believe me, I never meant to cause the king any embarrassment, I just….."

She stopped talking. Merlin was already leaving.

In a private room, with Leon, Percival and Gawaine, Merlin told the knights, Faylinn's story.

They were all silent for a moment and then Leon spoke.

"I cannot believe that Arthur did….did anything, even if he was drugged. He was very unsure of himself in those days. Back then, Turgot was the leader of the 'gang', not Arthur."

Merlin concurred. "I am sure you are right. I just wish I had been here for Arthur, when he was faced with this woman's claims. I should never have stayed away so long."

"Don't blame yourself, Merlin" protested Gawaine, "this is mostly Morgana's doing. I really thought we were done with her and all her tricks, but it seems she has found a way to defeat death itself."

"Once again, my fault," said Merlin with a sigh.

"I should have destroyed her body. Instead I left it on the forest floor. I was in a hurry. Arthur was my only focus. Some poor wretch must have touched her, before her body was cold. If I ever get my hands on Morgana…..or what passes for Morgana, these days, I will make sure that I finish the job I started. I will leave nothing behind but dust!"

"Hindsight is a wonderful thing," murmured Gawaine.

"One thing we must all agree on," insisted Merlin, "the, Lady Faylinn's story is not to be repeated, not to ANYONE and that includes the queen. Do I have your agreement?"

Leon spoke up immediately. "Of course, Merlin."

He glanced at his two friends, who nodded.

"This information will NEVER be communicated to anyone. You have our promise."

From her window, Gwen watched Merlin and the three knights leave the castle. A small figure came to stand by her side.

"Why is Merlin going away?" asked Merri, his little face full of disappointment.

"Important matters of state," said Gwen running her fingers through his curly hair, "he'll be back soon."

"But I haven't been able to tell him about Lindisfarne."

"You can tell him when he comes back. I know he will be very interested. Maybe you and your brother and sister can stay up late and you can all tell Merlin about our adventures."

"Really late?" asked Merri suspiciously. He always liked any such offer from his parents to be set in stone, lest they try and change their minds later.

"Yes, really late. We'll all have dinner together."

"AND Papa?" Merri persisted.

Gwen sighed and said a silent prayer to the gods.

"And Papa," she promised.

Merri took his mother's hand and held it tightly. She could not tell from his expression, whether he believed her or not.

Gwen had every faith in Merlin, but Arthur was ill and imprisoned. Who was to say that Arthur would still be alive when they finally reached him?

She wished she knew why Arthur had sought out this childhood friend. Merlin had told her that lady Faylinn had needed to find this man for some personal reasons of her own. Arthur had apparently decided to help her and track Turgot down, himself. But why he had taken on this task? He had so many men he could send out to make enquiries. It just did not make sense.

Gwen wondered if she should talk to the lady in question, herself, but of course she could not. To do so would be to draw attention to the fact that no word had been received from the king since he left Camelot. For now, she had to pretend that everything in Camelot was as it should be. If the enemies of Camelot knew that the king was missing, anything could happen.

In Turgot's tower, Arthur paced his cell.

It was morning. Weak sunlight was shining in through the bars to the outside and as usual, the torch had been lit in the windowless corridor.

The previous day, Arthur had eaten and drunk little of the meagre rations that had been brought to his cell.

He had begun to think that his food or drink or even both were drugged in some way and that this was the reason for the almost permanent dizziness that plagued him. Thus starving as he was, he denied himself the piece of stale bread and made do with two small dried up apples.

The problem was that he had nothing else to sustain him. Without food and drink he would die. Thus he hid the bread under the sacking on his mattress and vowed that if he felt no better the next day, he would eat the bread anyway.

Hungry and thoroughly dejected, Arthur pressed his face against the bars to the corridor and saw the slave woman approaching.

He stepped back and pushed his dirty hair away from his face and tried to assume a friendly demeanour.

The woman paused outside his cell and pushed a water carrier through the bars.

Arthur reached out and grabbed her arm. She pulled back angrily and was surprisingly strong. But Arthur hung on.

"Please….please," he rasped. His throat was so dry, his voice hardly felt like his own.

"Please, help me to get out of here. If you help me, I can help you. I can get you away from this place, get you back to your family."

"Let go of me," she hissed.

Arthur let go. Antagonising her would hardly help his cause.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. But I have no one else to turn to. You are a prisoner here, like me. If you just help me escape, I can help you. I'll take you with me, back to Camelot. You will be safe there…please."

The woman stared at him, her huge eyes seeming to look right through him.

"I cannot leave here," she said in her strange, harsh sounding voice. "He has my skin. Without it I cannot leave this place. If I do, I can never return to the sea. If I help you he will destroy my skin. I will be lost forever."

Arthur looked at her in dismay. He did not understand what she was talking about, but it seemed pretty clear that she was far too afraid to help him escape. But he had another request.

"If you will not help me leave here, then will you not bring me fresh water?"

He held up the water pouch. "Could you not at least bring me water from a different source. This….this water is… tainted, somehow. It makes me sick. My throat is always sore and I feel dizzy everyday. If nothing else, will you not at least bring me fresh water?"

She turned away and disappeared down the corridor. However a few minutes later she was back. She thrust a jug though the bars. There was water in it.

In a whisper she said, "It will rain, heavily tonight. I feel the weather closing in. Collect the rainwater when you can. When I have the chance I will bring more water. I can do no more."

Once more she turned to go.

"Wait! What is your name?"

She paused, "Rhona."

"And I am…."

"I know, who you are…..Camelot's golden king…."

She stared at him for a few seconds and Arthur thought she was going to say more. But she walked away, without a second glance.

Utterly dispirited, Arthur went back to the mattress and sat down. He stared at the water in the jug and then put it to his lips.

It tasted different from the water in the leather pouch, not particularly fresh, but without the strange metallic taste he had come to expect. Maybe it WAS the water that was making him feel so feeble.

He took the dry bread from under the sacks. He stared at it. He was SO hungry. Surely it was the water that was making him ill….surely…

His stomach growled in agreement. He put his hand to his head, his fingers pushing through his tangled hair. He was starving. The water WAS different. Could he really deny himself the bread? He held it up in front of his face. It looked like any other bread he had eaten. If you were going to drug or poison someone, surely you would put the poison into the water. Water was the one thing, no-one could refuse… surely.

He shoved the dry bread into his mouth. He HAD to eat. He was famished…when was he not? Starvation was his now his life. Just a few weeks and he was no longer, himself. His whole world revolved around the pitiful sustenance he was offered. He needed to eat.

The bead was dry as dust, gritty and tasteless, but it was food. He swallowed and sent a prayer to the gods

'Please, let this be alright, please…"

There were no crumbs. He had eaten it all.

Too late for regrets.

He had to concentrate on the days to come. If the water that the slave had given him was untainted, at the very least, he could be alert, ready for a chance to escape. Now that he had the jug, he could re-fill it with rainwater. He could ignore the water he was offered with his food and with any luck, get back to normal. He would still be, starving, but at the very least, he would no longer wake every day with a headache and he would be able to think everything through, properly. He would be 'himself' again and then, just maybe, he could find a way to escape.

That night it did rain and Arthur placed the jug under the bars and it caught some of the heavy rain that poured down the slanted section of the wall.

When the jug was full, he drunk everything in it and then replaced it.

By the morning the rain had stopped but Arthur felt better than he had since his incarceration began. Unless the slave woman brought him more fresh water, he would be forced to drink the stuff from his drinking pouch. But at least when it rained, he could clear his head, even if only for short time.

He touched the wound on his head. It had finally healed up, but his head felt lumpy as if there was still some fragment of whatever he had been hit with, left inside. Merlin would never have left him with a wound like that.

Oh how he missed him…..his ridiculous comments, his scruffy hair, his dusty clothes, …..his kindness, his reliability, his friendship…..his wisdom.

How had he ever thought that Merlin was stupid?

"Sorry, Merlin," he muttered, "Sorry….."

In Camelot, a ragged man stood in the great hall. He looked nervous and kept one hand in the pocket of his dirty trousers. He was clutching the silver coins he had been given, to deliver a letter to the queen.

He held the letter in his other hand. It was still sealed and he had not dared to break the seal to see what the letter might contain.

Whatever the contents turned out to be, he feared for his own safety. But he could not have turned down the money. It was more than he could earn in a whole year.

The queen hurried into the room. Close up she was a beautiful woman although her face seemed drawn as if she was worried about something. He had only ever seen her from a distance, but he comforted himself with the fact that he had always thought that she had a kind face.

"You have a letter for me," she said, holding out her hand.

"Y….yes your majesty. I was told to give it to no one but yourself."

His hand shook as he handed the letter to the queen and he watched as she ripped the seal apart and read the words written on the dirty parchment.

Her face darkened. She looked around the room and the sentries standing along the walls were immediately on alert, heads raised, waiting for her command.

But she did not call for the guards to drag him away. Instead she said, "Come with me. I have questions to ask you."

The man looked fearful, but followed the queen out of the great hall.

She led him quickly into a side room.

"Who asked you to deliver this? You may answer me freely. You are not in any trouble."

The man bent his head and studied his shoes.

"I do not know, my lady. I was mucking out the pigs…"

"Where?"

"Long Border my lady. Tis many miles from 'ere. I was with the pigs an' a rider came. 'e wore a hood and I couldn't see his face proper, but he gave me the letter and…..and some money for travel and told me to bring it to you. T'as taken me two days to get 'ere. A trader gave me a lift in 'is cart. Now you have the letter, I must get back to my family."

He looked at her hopefully, for second and then dropped his head once more.

"And you were not asked to return with a reply?"

"No my lady…..just charged with delivery."

Gwen frowned.

"And you are absolutely sure that you didn't recognise the man who gave you the letter or that you had never seen him before?"

"Sure, my lady. Twas raining something terrible and I was trying to keep under shelter while he spoke to me."

Gwen sighed. She went to the door and asked one of the guards to send a servant to fetch Gaius.

The old man came quickly. Merlin had fully appraised him of the situation and he did not ask questions as he stepped into the small room. He only waited for instructions.

Gaius had studied and practiced magic as a young man. Like many, in the days before 'the purge', he had once practiced it freely, and since magic was no longer illegal, he had resurrected his old skills.

Learned magic could never be as powerful and far-reaching as the magic of those who had been born with it, but Gaius was not without ability.

Gwen leant forward and whispered in the old man's ear.

He nodded and then went and stood before the messenger. He cleared his throat..

"Will you please lift your head," he asked.

The man obeyed, happier to face an old man, rather than the queen.

But the moment his eyes locked with Gaius's he realised this was no normal old man

"Everything," said Gaius softly, "EVERY single thing you remember about the man who gave you this letter."

The swineherd had not wanted to take note of the man who gave him the letter, feeling instinctively that the less he knew the better, but now the he found himself giving information, he did not even know he had.

"Tall, 'e was and strongly built. 'is head was shaven. Big scar across 'is face. 'is horse was a big chestnut mare with a white star on 'er forehead…rich man's 'orse and there were a seal skin under 'is saddle and 'e 'ad a sword with a red hilt."

"Then this letter speaks the truth," murmured Gaius, "It is surely Tilly that he is describing and the sword…..well, we know who that belongs to."

"And a seal skin," said Gwen, "more than likely he came from a place by the sea. It must be him mustn't it? It must be the man Leon told me about…..the person Arthur used to know…..Turgot!"

Gaius glanced at the swineherd, now anxiously chewing his thumb. He looked frightened and way out of his depth.

"My Lady, I think we may send this man on his way. He has told us all he knows."

Gwen nodded, "Yes, yes, of course."

Once more she leant out into the corridor and spoke to one of the guards. She instructed that the man be fed and then sent on his way with payment for his trouble.

Then closing the door behind her, she went back to Gaius to plan what they should do next.

"It's an awful lot of money, My lady…..not of course that the king is not worth every penny of it, but how can we guarantee that its payment will see Arthur returned safely."

Gwen appeared miserable and distracted. She clasped her hands in front of her.

"If only Merlin and the others had not left already. Merlin would know what to do. I just want to pay the money immediately, but maybe that is not the right way to proceed." She looked at Gaius hopefully.

"Should we try and negotiate? Should we try and insist that the money is only handed over at the very same time as Arthur is given back to us. If we pay as instructed in the letter, there is no certainty that Arthur will be delivered to us at all."

Gaius agreed. "You are right of course. But if we do not comply, the letter says that any further communication will arrive with Arthur's fingers…..all of them. We cannot risk that."

Gwen took a deep breath.

"It's down to me to make this decision, Gaius and I think we must just do as instructed. If that fails then we must think again."

Once more she looked at Gaius, obviously waiting for him to agree.

The old man rubbed his long nose, obviously deep in thought. Then his face brightened.

"I have remembered my lady! I've remembered the spell for tracking things. We will mark the gold with something that will leave a trail behind it. I will then be able to follow the money and find out exactly where Arthur is being held."

Gwen raised her eyebrows, "You can do that?" she asked.

Gaius nodded, 'Yes, Gwen, yes I think I can. It's been a long time since I have attempted that kind of magic, but, yes, I really believe I can still do it."

"But Gaius, Arthur is almost certainly being held somewhere on the coast. That is many days ride from here. How will you manage to travel so far?"

Gaius shrugged.

"Sometimes, Gwen my dear, one just has to get on and do it. It will be hard and I may be some days behind the money, but as long as I have the er 'scent' so to speak, I will get there, in the end."

Gwen looked unconvinced.

"Dear Gaius, there must be someone we can send in your place. Such a long journey could be the death of you. Now that magic is no longer illegal, there has to be someone with magic who we could trust to follow the ransom in your place."

Gaius considered this suggestion for a moment.

"Do you know," he said, "I do believe that there is someone who could do it and someone we could most definitely trust."

"Who?" Gwen demanded.

"Porrig."

"Porrig, from the stables?"

"Why not? He is honest and loyal. Your children all love him and he and Merlin are the best of friends."

"But can he do magic? I thought he was just a 'horse whisperer'

"So he is my lady, so he is. But that talent in itself is a form of magic. Indeed it is not only horses he can charm. He is a remarkable young man and one who I think I could teach to follow the ransom, quite easily."

Gaius smiled and patted Gwen's hand.

"So that's settled, my dear. You organise the money and have it brought in a chest to my chamber. I will work on the magic needed to mark it, so that wherever it goes, Porrig will be able to follow."

Gwen threw her arms round the old man's neck.

"Oh, thank you Gaius, thank you, thank you. I would never have thought of Porrig and yet you are right of course. He is the most trustworthy of men and if you think he can learn the magic needed, I am happy for him to go in your place."

Gaius returned to his chambers. He was both excited and nervous. His plan seemed a very obvious way of tracking down the culprit who had kidnapped Arthur.

Unfortunately, he hadn't done this kind of magic since he was a very young man.

For all the years that Uthor had enforced his ban against the use of all magic, Gaius had let his skills lapse. Only when Arthur had reversed Uthor's ruling had he once again studied his art. Gaius's learned magic would never be a s powerful as Merlin's, nevertheless, he believed, what was required of him was within his capabilities.

He went to his extensive collection of books and found one, which he was pretty sure would give him the spells he needed.

Flicking through the pages he soon found what he was looking for. All he needed was to place a magically marked object in with the gold and he would be able to track it.

Gaius considered this for a moment and then decided that it would be better to mark as many of the actual coins as possible. There was always the chance that the person, who collected the ransom, would sneak a coin or two for himself. It was after all a considerable amount of money. Any foreign object among the coins might also be discarded or just look suspicious

Gaius took some coins from his own purse and having studied and memorised the words he needed, he began to chant over them. As he spoke, the coins began to glow softly. Their light flickered like a candle flame and slowly died away, when Gaius stopped speaking.

The old man picked up the coins and turned them over in his hands. They looked exactly the same as they had before the spell, although they were very slightly warm to the touch.

He looked along his cluttered shelves and found a small casket. He placed the coins inside, along with several other metal objects.

He locked the casket and walked out into the corridor where he stopped the first servant boy, he saw.

He handed him the casket and instructed him to take it outside the castle and into the woods.

"Find a tree that you can climb and place this casket in the branches and leave it there. As soon as you return I will give you two silver coins."

The boy's eyes grew wide as he thought of the reward.

"What is in it, my lord?" he asked.

Gaius smiled benignly, "Nothing of importance, child. Just do as I say and you shall have your reward."

The young servant hurried away and returned some thirty minutes later with an expectant look on his face.

"Tis done, my lord. Safely put in a tree as you asked."

Gaius paid the lad, waited until he had disappeared round a corner, and then closed his eyes.

He began to chant the words of the 'finding' spell and when he opened his eyes, he could see a glimmering trail ahead of him."

Gaius beamed. The spell appeared to be working. Now to see if he could follow the trail, all the way to the casket.

As Gaius trudged through the forest, he wished he had asked the boy to hide the casket somewhere within the realms of the castle itself. But it was too late for that now and so he continued through the trees, following the glimmering trail, a trail that he knew only he could see. If it became dim he would repeat the finding spell and immediately his trail would glow brilliantly in front of him.

Finally he saw the tree, up which the boy had placed the casket, and cursed. It was not in one of the lower branches but high in the canopy and there was no way that Gaius could retrieve it.

However, he had proved that his old talents were up to the task needed and happy with that thought, he trudged back to the castle and went straight to see Gwen.

She was sitting in the royal apartments, brushing Melora's hair. Melora was whining and wriggling, anxious to go and find her brothers.

When she saw Gaius, she sensed that her escape was imminent. She grinned cheekily and held out her arms, inviting him to pick her off her mother's lap.

Gaius obliged and Melora planted a kiss on his cheek. She was three years old and almost irresistible to everyone, but most especially thought Gaius sadly, to Arthur. Arthur adored his daughter and she him. How would the little girl cope if her father did not return? She would be heartbroken.

Gaius refused to dwell on that thought and talked to Gwen over the top of Melora's head.

"I have the spell we need and I have tested it. All I need now is to enchant the gold and teach Porrig the spell that will allow him to follow the trail."

"How long will it take Porrig to learn?"

"I'm not sure, my dear. However if I go and find him now, he will surely be ready by tomorrow morning."

"Do you think we should send some of the knights with him," asked Gwen, frowning.

Gaius shook his head.

"I don't think so. If Porrig is happy to go alone, I think it would be safer. The fewer people who know about Arthur's plight, the better. There is always the chance that more than one person will come to collect the ransom. One may remain behind, to see if anyone follows. A group of knights anywhere near the place, where the money is to be left, would stick out a mile.

No, it is best if Porrig follows the money alone and at least a day after it has been delivered to the collection location. That way he should attract no undue attention. He can take his eagle for protection. Have you seen the size of the claws on that bird? One whistle from Porrig and the bird will attack."

Gaius gave Gwen what he hoped was an optimistic and confident smile.

"We can rely on Porrig, my dear. I am sure of it and once he has tracked the ransom to its final destination, we can send Camelot's finest knights to rescue Arthur.

Porrig proved to be a more than able pupil and as Gaius had predicted he leant all that was needed in record time. As a test Gaius sent him to follow the trail to the coins that the young servant had left up the tree and Porrig both tracked and retrieved them with ease.

It was a young knight, called Bayard, who was sent with the ransom money to a tavern in a village some twenty miles from Camelot. He was given no details of the package he delivered and believed he was undertaking the task as a favour to the old physician.

He passed his package to the landlord of the tavern with no problem and hastened back to Camelot. Gaius appeared delighted when he gave him the silver ring, which was the agreed sign the ransom had been delivered.

'Thank you, my boy, thank you. You have been a great help. Allow me to recompense you for your trouble."

He felt in his pockets for some coins but Bayard refused to accept them. Gaius had nursed and saved his mother from a terrible sickness not five months earlier and Bayard was indebted to the kindly old physician.

"I am only too happy to serve you," he said. "My mother thanks you every day for her life. Should you require anything else, you have only to ask."

Gaius patted the young knight's shoulder.

"You were accepted here for good reason, my boy. I will recommend you to the king, on his return."

Gaius hurried down to the stables.

"We have your starting point, Porrig," he said.

"You must go straight to the tavern at Netherbrook. If you cannot see the trail there, we are in trouble."

Turgot, opened the casket from Camelot and peered at the gold coins inside. He had never seen so much money and a satisfied grin spread across his mean face.

"Here, look at this, boy,"

He gestured to Roldan to come and join him.

Roldan came over and stood next to his father. Maybe, just for once, he had done something worthy of praise.

"So I did the right thing in detaining Pendragon?" he ventured.

Turgot shrugged, "Just for a change, it seems you did. But you need me, to make everything really pay." He pointed at the gold.

"This is just the start, boy. Very soon, we move our hostage to Great Holm and then I will send a demand for a second ransom. Camelot will not be in a hurry to pay and will doubtless require proof of life. So, we will incarcerate his royal highness in the ruined castle on the island.

We can allow someone from Camelot to see him there. No knights, of course, just a single, unarmed, messenger. Transport to the island can be provided by one of the fishermen from Watchet. There are several there, who will do anything for a few coins and I will employ mercenaries to stand guard over Pendragon while he is being viewed."

He held out his hands and sniggered

"They'll have no idea who they are guarding. I've made enquiries and Camelot is maintaining the fiction that the king is in the north at a council meeting and our captive hardly looks much like a king any more, does he? The man is skin and bone and with that beard, he looks like a pauper!"

But, we must be careful. Nothing must lead back to us or to this place. I do not intend to remain here much longer, but we must be vigilant. If Camelot were to get a hint that we are responsible for the king's kidnapping, we would both be facing the hangman's noose."

He clapped his hands together.

"But, we are safe and Pendragon is going to make us rich beyond our wildest dreams!

We'll be free and we can cross the sea and find a far better place than this pigsty of a tower."

"Will I tell the men to get the boat ready?" asked Roldan, eagerly, anxious to keep his father's approval.

"Yes, as long as the weather holds, we might move him as early as tomorrow. I'll take Rhona with me, but you can stay here and keep an eye on things."

Roldan looked disappointed. He had never seen the ruined castle on of Great Holm, except from a fishing boat and he had been anxious to explore it. There was always the chance that some former resident had left something of interest and Roldan's life was so bleak and dreary.

However, if his father said he could not go, then he would do as he was told. His father's temper was always unpredictable and to disobey was to invite violence. Roldan had many scars and every mark was the work of his father.

As darkness fell, Arthur waited by the bars of his cell, hoping that Rhona would bring him his food and some fresh water. Since she had started to help him, he had begun to feel a little better. But although she brought him water, she claimed she could do nothing about his meagre rations.

"There is no spare food in this place," she had explained to him one evening, "every crumb is accounted for. I would bring you shellfish, if I thought you could eat them, but I feel sure they would make you sick and," she looked him up and down, critically, "your health is hardly robust."

Arthur could not disagree. He had probably been a prisoner, for a little over a month and he had lost a huge amount of weight. Two or three shrivelled apples and a crust of mouldy bread a day, was never going to sustain a strongly built six foot man. Arthur was quite literally fading away.

"If you would bring the shell fish, I could try." he suggested.

"You would have to eat them raw and conceal the shells until I could retrieve them."

Arthur nodded. "Yes, yes I could do that. I confess I am not a lover of such things, but I am starving to death here."

Rhona's huge eyes were filled with compassion. "I know how terrible it is for you to be incarcerated in this hell hole, but maybe…just maybe, there might be a chance for you and I to escape."

Hope transformed Arthur's face.

"Escape! How?"

"Ssh. Do not speak so loudly. If anyone should hear…"

She glanced back up the corridor, but all was silent.

"You are to be moved. You are to be taken by Turgot himself, to the ruined castle on the island of Great Holme. Turgot has already received a ransom for your release and now he wants to extort another. He knows that nothing will be forthcoming, if it cannot be proved that you are still alive. Someone from Camelot will insist on seeing you and that cannot happen here. Turgot cannot risk the wrath of Camelot descending on this filthy place, so you will be taken to the island. Once you have been seen….."

"Will he free me?" asked Arthur, eagerly.

Rhona shook her head.

"No! He is too afraid of reprisals. I fear the island will be your burial place, unless you can escape before you get there.

If you and I can get off the boat, we can swim to safety….you can swim can't you? You are not afraid of the water? The seas round here are treacherous to humans, but I can assure you, not to me.

If we can get into the water, I can get you to the shore and you can effect your escape."

Arthur's eyes grew wide with expectation. "You think there is a way? How many will guard us? Will you have a weapon? I cannot fight off Turgot's thugs without one."

Rhona reached down the front of her dress and drew out what looked like a knife. It was attached to a piece of fishing line and on closer inspection, Arthur could see that it was actually a sharpened shell.

He frowned. "I do not think that will be enough to kill a man," he said.

She put him straight. "This is not to kill anyone. This is to cut our bonds. We will both be bound and put in the cabin. "Here," she thrust the knife at him, "you must keep this safe. I do not possess enough clothing to be sure that no-one will see it. You can hide it far easier than I can."

Arthur took the makeshift blade. It was small but it was razor sharp and just holding it gave him a sense of empowerment. He felt as if someone had just given him a sword, which was ridiculous really, but it was something.

"When," he asked, "when do we go?"

"In two days, I think, but maybe sooner. Just make sure you keep that blade safely about your person and keep it hidden. Turgot is not the most reliable of men. He may choose to leave tonight or tomorrow and he will give me no warning. Wherever he goes, I must follow."

She turned to leave and Arthur reached out to grab her hand. "The shell fish…will you bring them? If I am to swim, I must have more food. Raw fish would not be my first choice, but maybe it will be better than nothing?"

Rhona studied his face and held on to his hand.

"Your woman," she said, softly, "she must miss you terribly."

Arthur nodded, "And I miss her and my children….everyday."

"Then we must both get away. If nothing has happened by tomorrow I will bring the shellfish and hope that they do you more good than harm. Apart from that, I can do no more until we are aboard Turgot's boat and well away from here."

She smiled at him. Arthur had never seen her smile before and her beauty dazzled him.

"Who are you?" he asked. "When you smile, it is like the sun coming out."

She brought his hand up to her mouth and kissed it. "Hopefully, I am your saviour," she said and then she walked away.

Arthur was left staring after her.

Morgana joined a crowd of pedlars, walking through the great gates of Camelot. It was the second time she had dared to enter the castle.

The first time had been while Merlin was in Ealdor, attending to his mother. Morgana had paid a boy from the village to spy on him, so she had been absolutely certain that she would not cross the sorcerer's path.

But she had been nervous and disorientated. It had been so many years since she had walked the corridors of the castle and despite a rather quick search of the areas usually reserved for guests, she had been unable to find Faylinn.

When a passing castle guard had seemed to take an interest in her, Morgana's nerve had failed and she had fled.

Her spy had lingered in the citadel far longer and eventually discovered that the king was delayed at a council meeting in the north and that Merlin had gone north to join him.

Upon hearing the news of Arthur's protracted absence, Morgana began to wonder if Faylinn had spoken to the king, at all.

Certainly, so far everything in Camelot seemed to be going on as normal and there was no gossip or whiff of scandal that concerned the king. Maybe something would happen when Arthur returned, but for now, it appeared Arthur's reputation was in tact.

So, despite being wary and nervous, Morgana had once again returned to the home of her enemies. She needed to know what was going on and for that she needed to find that silly woman, Faylinn.

She had decided to mingle with the usual traders, who came and went from the castle, every day. As they bought and sold their wares, they gossiped and chatted and there was every chance that one or other of them might have noticed a stranger at the castle, a lady who perhaps might have come to buy ribbons or lace.

But listen as she might, she heard nothing of Faylinn and as she wandered among the traders, looking at the fine cloth and perfumes, she suddenly found herself remembering doing exactly the same thing, with Gwen.

It had been another autumn day, but apart from the season, everything else had changed. Back then she had been the beloved ward of King Uther and every day had been hers to enjoy as she pleased. Everything she wanted or needed was provided and people had treated her with respect.

Though it hurt her to remember it, there was no doubt that once, she had been happy here. She had felt loved and had loved in return. She had even loved Arthur. Although she had passed many of her childhood hours squabbling and teasing him, ultimately she had cared for him as any normal girl would have cared for her brother.

Where had it all gone?

She looked up at the white towers above her, torn between regret and jealousy.

But it was the latter feeling, which triumphed.

This was all Arthur's. He was king and she was nobody. She had lost all her status, her easy life and a lot of her power. Even her beauty was marred and she hated to look at herself in a mirror. Uthor's beautiful ward was now plain and thin, just a shadow of her former self.

It was all so unfair.

"Something the matter, my lady?"

A trader was staring at Morgana and there was something in his expression that alarmed her.

Surely he did not recognise her.

Morgana backed away, muttering, "I'm perfectly fine, thankyou." But out of the corner of her eye, she could see that he was still looking in her direction.

She hurried to another stall, turning her back on him and pretended to look at some silver jewellery. But her nerves were getting the better of her and she looked anxiously round the courtyard for some place to conceal herself.

Suddenly she remembered a small door that she and Arthur had often used, as children. It had been a handy way to escape the attentions of their elders and was little used by the castle servants.

Morgana headed directly for it. It was at the bottom of a set of steps that led from the courtyard down to the lower levels of the castle.

As she attempted to lift the latch, she realised the door was locked. She hurled a spell at it, wanting to be inside before anyone noticed what she was doing.

The door opened and Morgana hurried inside. As the door slammed behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief.

For a moment she stood in the shadows, listening, but all was quiet. As her footsteps echoed on the stone floor, she found herself questioning the sanity of this incursion.

Merlin was out of the way, but who was to say that there were not other courtiers with powerful magic, in residence at the castle. Magic was no longer illegal and it seemed natural that those who had been born with such a talent would gravitate towards a king who embraced it.

Uther had killed many for using magic, but his son was different. Arthur had even paid compensation to those whose family members had fallen foul of Uther's laws and now the people of Albion hailed him as a great and just king.

Morgana ground her teeth. It was, all wrong.

SHE was Uther's eldest child.

SHE had magic.

SHE should have been Uthor's successor.

She should have been the one crowned in the great hall of Camelot, not her inferior half brother, who had no magic at all and relied totally on his former servant to keep him safe from sorcery.

But time was passing and Morgana dragged her attention back to the matter in hand. She had not come here for regrets, nor to revel in nostalgia. She was here for a purpose. She had to find Faylinn. She had to know if she had spoken to the king, before he left for his council meeting and if so, what had been his response?

Morgana moved from corridor to corridor, knocking softly on doors and sometimes peeping inside. But room after room was empty. How many rooms there were in the castle, she had no idea. In fact, despite having spent her childhood within the castle confines, she had probably not been inside even half of them.

Guests were housed all over the castle, but only those of greatest importance were housed in the same wing as the royal family. So where was Faylinn? The west wing? The east wing? The gods alone knew the answer.

As she closed the door of another empty room, Morgana heard the sound of footsteps. If she was caught, there was every chance she would end up in the dungeons. She could no longer kill with just a wave of her hand and even the use of small magic left her exhausted. So, she had no option but to hide.

She opened the nearest door and slipped into a dusty storeroom. With an ear to the door, she held her breath and waited. Nothing happened. The owner of the footsteps had taken a different path.

With a sigh of relief, Morgana went back out into the corridor and for a moment she paused, not knowing which way to go. Above the doorway, the royal crest was carved into the stone. It was a motif, which was repeated all around the castle and again Morgana was hit by a wave of nostalgia.

She hated to admit it, even to herself, but she still thought about the castle almost every day. She could not forget how much she had loved it and now what she wanted more than anything, was to see the beautiful room that once had been hers.

She wanted to remember the days, when she was a member of the royal family, when Gwen was her servant, not her queen.

Rounding a corner, Morgana found herself by a back staircase, she recognised. She knew if she took it, it would bring her out close to the royal apartments.

In that area of the castle, there would be guards and servants aplenty and every chance that Morgana would be seen.

Thus, she took a deep breath and muttered words of magic.

Anyone watching her would have seen Morgana appear to melt into the walls. Her image glimmered for a second and then she was nothing but shadows, shadows that seemed to drift mysteriously up the stairs.

The door to Morgana's old room opened unaided and a soft breeze blew the curtains, before the door swung back again, although not far enough for the latch to click.

Morgana clutched at the back of a chair and drew in a shaky breath. In a mirror on the wall, she caught sight of her reflection. She was as white as a sheet.

She cursed. She felt horribly weak.

Still clutching the chair, she gazed uncertainly round her old room. In her mind she heard echoes of her own laughter, Arthur arguing with her, Gwen asking what her duties were for the day. All so long ago…..another time, another world.

The furniture was still the same and the same sumptuous cushions and velvets still covered the big bed. One of her beautiful hand mirrors still lay on the dressing table, but it, like everything else, was covered in dust. No one used this room any more. It held only bad memories for those who still lived in the castle

She went to the window and looked out on to the road that led south from Camelot. How many times had she watched the comings and going from this spot? Too many to recall.

She was so deep in her memories that she did not notice the small boy, who had slipped into the room.

"Hallo!"

Morgana swung round.

"Who are you and what are you doing in this room?"

Morgana's heart was beating so fast, it took her a second or two before she could answer. Her relief, when she saw that the questioner was just a child, was palpable.

"Who are you?" she snapped back.

"I asked first."

The child grinned at her cheekily. He appeared not in the least intimidated by Morgana's frosty manner.

Morgana studied him. He looked to be about seven or maybe eight years old and he was grubby, like all children his age. His clothes however, were expensive, so he was clearly the son of someone important.

"I am the Lady Ygraine," she offered, trying to look imperious.

The child held out his hand.

"And I'm Merri, well…..Prince Merlin, but all my friends call me, Merri. You can, if you like."

Morgana took a sharp intake of breath. Arthur's second son! It was obvious now that she looked at him properly. He had Gwen's dark eyes and skin, but he also had Arthur's smile and he was smiling now…the little fool!

Morgana rubbed her hands together. What an opportunity! She could kill this child, right now. Stun him with magic, then strangle or smother him. He was certainly small enough! Then she could leave his body here to rot.

How long, she wondered, would it take for his remains to be found? Days hopefully and by then the flies would have laid their eggs in his little body and his small face would be distorted and bloated.

Unaware of Morgana's thoughts, Merii continued to smile at her.

"You're like me, aren't you?" he said.

"I beg your pardon. How am I like you?"

"You have magic, don't you? I can always tell."

His smile widened as Morgana's mouth dropped open.

"You….you! Are you telling me you have magic? Don't make me laugh!"

"Course I do. No-one expects me to be able to do anything because I'm so small, but I'm nine years old and I've been doing magic for years! Merlin helps me and Gaius and some things I'm still practising but….want to see what I can do?"

Before Morgana had a chance to answer, Merri levitated the hand mirror off the dressing table and let it hover in front of her, so that she could see her pale face.

Morgana was speechless. Not only was magic legal in Albion, but even Arthur's own son was a practitioner!

As she studied the child more carefully, she realised that this child was not just using 'learned magic'. He had been born with it.

"You look unhappy," observed Merri, "would you like some butterflies or some stars? Stars would make you look pretty."

Before she could say anything, he flung out his hand and beautiful butterflies suddenly whirled around Morgana, filling the air with colour. As the butterflies faded, glittering stars floated down out of nowhere and settled in Morgana's hair like diamonds.

"Now, you look like a princess! Do you like them?"

Merri pursed his lips.

"I haven't worked out yet how to make them last for more than a few minutes, but they make you look all sparkly."

Morgana stared at her reflection in the mirror on the wall and saw an echo of the lovely girl she had once been. It was as if her sallow skin and dry hair had been lit from within. For just a few moments, she was beautiful.

She turned back to the extraordinary child in front of her and in that moment, she knew she could never harm him. He was special.

She could take him though. She could steal him away and teach him how to hate all those who lived in Camelot.

"I used to stay in this room when I was young," she told Merri. "I knew Merlin and your father and mother. But they did not like me, because I had magic."

Merri pouted. "Why should that matter?"

"Because magic used to be illegal."

Merri's eyes grew wide.

"Illegal! But why? Merlin is my father's bestest friend and he is the magicist person in the whole world!"

"Your father used to hate magic and Merlin used to pretend he was just a normal man. Everyone with magic was afraid and some of them were even killed."

Merri's face fell. "But why? Magic is good. It makes YOU happy doesn't it?'

Morgana smiled warmly, "Of course it does and ALWAYS has done, but when I was here before, it made me very unpopular. In fact, if anyone was to know I was here now, they would probably be very angry and angry with you for even talking to me."

She moved towards him, a smile on her face. But even as she reached out to take hold of his small hand, she heard voices in the corridor and realised for the first time, that the chamber door was ajar.

Merri glanced at the door and then back at Morgana.

"This door is always closed," he whispered urgently, "castle guards are coming! You should hide!"

Morgana crossed the room and slid behind the heavy curtains, concealing herself completely.

Two men came into the room.

Merri stood his ground and grinned at them.

"Oh its you, Prince Merlin," said one of the guards, "What are you doing in here? No one is supposed to be in this room."

Merri shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm playing hide and seek with my brother," he explained, "I thought this would be a good place to hide."

The guard frowned, "Well, I'm afraid, Prince Merlin, THIS room is NOT to be used… erm…..er…by order of your father," he finished hurriedly

Behind the drapes, Morgana almost laughed. It must be difficult for a grown man to have to be polite to a cheeky little boy.

Merri shrugged again, as if he could not care less, but wandered slowly towards the door.

"I'll hide somewhere else then," he said.

He walked through the door and the guards followed him, but before they could close the door, Merri pushed past them and came back into the room.

"I dropped my handkerchief," he said loudly and running to wards the window, picked up a handkerchief that very definitely had not been there before.

As he headed back to the corridor, he casually threw out his left hand and as the door closed behind him, a flurry of glistening stars found their way behind the curtains and settled round Morgana's neck.

Morgana shook her head in disbelief. He hadn't even been looking at her, when he had flung her the magical necklace. How could a child so small, have so much power?

Sadly, the chance to steal this little marvel away had gone and Morgana walked towards the door, intending to leave.

But suddenly she felt too tired to work the magic needed to ensure that she could escape, unseen.

With a sigh, she touched the heavy wooden door and whispered a few words. Her eyes flashed. Now if anyone tried to lift the latch, they would find it impossible.

Then she went over to the bed, pulled back the dusty bedspread and lay down. Minutes later, she was asleep, dreaming of Camelot and the long gone days when she had been happy.

Far away from Camelot, Merlin thought he heard something in the wind. He cocked his head and listened and gazed round the thick forest that surrounded him.

It was Arthur, he was sure of it. Merlin had been reaching out for him with magic for days and until this moment, he had been following nothing but echoes. Echoes of Arthur, of that he was certain, but even with all Merlin's magical powers, searching for Arthur, with so little information to go on, was proving to be an almost impossible task.

Percival saw Merlin's expression change and was immediately hopeful that the sorcerer had discovered something. He put his hand out to stop Gawaine and Leon, who were riding in single file behind him.

Merlin looked as if he was listening to something, but Percival could hear nothing but the sound of the birds and the wind in the branches.

Merlin got off his horse and searched the ground. Arthur had been gone for many weeks and any tracks were long gone. But now he thought they might be close and just maybe there might be something to guide them.

Percival slid off his horse and watched Merlin carefully. Squatting down, he began his own examination of the pine needles and leaf detritus that littered the forest floor.

Surely even Merlin couldn't find tracks after all this time. But maybe something had been dropped?

Merlin's fingers were in the soil. At first he seemed to find nothing and then he pulled out a button.

He held it out for the knights to examine.

"This is Arthur's," he said triumphantly.

"We are going in the right direction!"

Percival could see that the button was indeed Arthur's for it was shaped like a dragon and enamelled in red. It was from his waistcoat.

Percival gazed at Merlin in admiration.

"I always thought I was a good tracker, but without you, we would still be searching without direction. How do you do it?"

Merlin smiled. It was the first time anyone had seen him smile, since he discovered that Arthur was missing.

"It's hard to explain," he said.

"I use finding spells and I listen and I feel for echoes in the wind. Everyone leaves an echo when they pass by and if I allow myself to pick up these echoes, I can follow. I never used to notice such things when I was younger, but it was echoes that warned me that Morgana had found a way to resurrect herself. Her blackened soul leaves behind it traces that are unmistakable."

Gawaine grinned, "So Merlin, master tracker, where do we go from here?"

"We continue going, South West. I think we are close."

"What are we waiting for?" asked Gawaine.

Leon urged his horse onwards and Merlin and Percival hastily remounted. Now Merlin had the 'scent', they would waste no more time wandering aimlessly along the coast. Arthur had passed this way and they could surely follow.

Arthur slept little and the night seemed to go on forever. But whatever happened, tomorrow would bring a change to his situation. Either he would get more food or he would be moved and there was at least a chance of escape.

When the light finally started to seep into his cell from the outside, Arthur sat up and tried to compose himself.

He had been right in thinking that it was his water rather than his food which was tainted and now that Rhona was bringing him fresh water, he no longer felt dizzy or nauseous.

However, he was still starving and nowhere near as strong and fit as he had been when he had left Camelot. Would he be able to overpower Turgot, and would he be capable of a long swim from boat to shore? He had no idea. He only knew that this was probably the only chance he was ever going to get to escape his hellish existence.

Hours passed and nothing happened. But finally Arthur heard Rhona's soft footsteps and she appeared with a chunk of dry bread and a small jug of water.

"This is all," she whispered, "and in truth I was not supposed to feed you at all today. We are leaving some time in the afternoon. Turgot thinks the weather will improve." She smiled grimly. "He couldn't be more wrong."

Arthur looked worried. "I said I could swim," he hissed, "but if the sea is rough, I may not…."

Rhona reached through the bars and put her fingers over his lips.

"Don't be afraid. I will be with you and there will be others close by. I will not let you drown. Just make sure you bring the shell knife."

She looked into his eyes.

"Tell me that you will be ready. I cannot organise our escape without your help."

Arthur took a deep breath.

"I will not fail you."

Rhona squeezed his hand. Then she turned and hurried away.

Less than an hour later, the filthy servant came to unlock the cell. With him were the same three men who always accompanied his visits.

"Turn around," snarled one of men, "face the wall and put your hands behind you."

Arthur did as he was told and found his face forced against the cold stone, while his hands were tied tightly behind him.

Then he was frog marched down the corridor and up into the hallway of the tower. Rhona was already waiting there, her hands similarly bound. She did not even glance in his direction, but kept her eyes on the floor.

From the upper floor, Turgot appeared.

"Ready for a little boat trip?" he asked Arthur.

"You must be bored with your cell by now, although I can't promise you your next residence will be any better. Probably worse," he smirked.

In his hand he carried a seal skin. It trailed on the floor as he crossed the room. As he opened the door to the outside, he flung the skin around his shoulders and very deliberately pinned the edges together with a blackened silver broach, shaped like a fish.

Rhona seemed to flinch as the pin pierced the skin, but she remained silent, while Turgot chuckled to himself.

"Right," he said, stepping out onto the steps beyond, "time for us to get going. The sea has quietened down quite nicely, so you won't have to worry about being sick, Arthur."

Arthur received a kick to the back of his legs and hurried forward, following his captor down the steps.

The wind was blowing and it was not warm. Nevertheless, Arthur filled his lungs with the salty air. As he glanced back at the tower, it seemed to vanish in a thick mist. How a mist could hang in one place, when such a brisk wind was blowing was anybody's guess, but Arthur felt certain that some sort of sorcery was at work.

Rhona was right behind him, but he could not catch her eye. She seemed determined to ignore him and Arthur had to admit, that this tactic was probably for the best. At no point did they need to give Turgot any idea that they might be working together.

The boat was already on the sand, its bow in the water. One of Turgot's men hefted Rhona over the side and then did the same with Arthur. The man was incredibly strong and picked Arthur up as if he weighed no more than a child.

Arthur landed flat on his face and felt the shell knife, which he had tied into the hem of his filthy ragged shirt, digging into his flesh.

He had no time to worry about it however, for he was dragged to his feet and together with Rhona, forced through a gap in a tarpaulin, into the makeshift cabin. There, they were both forced to sit and their ankles were tied with thick rope.

Then they were left alone.

Soon the rhythm of the waves let them know that they were well out to sea and Arthur looked at Rhona expectantly.

She wriggled closer to him. "Have you got the knife?"

"Yes, it's in my shirt. If I kneel close behind you, can you retrieve it?"

It was easier said than done, but finally Rhona had the sharpened shell in her hands. With a dexterity that amazed Arthur, she managed to cut his hands free. He was then able to cut the ropes round his ankles and free Rhona.

"What if someone comes?" asked Arthur worriedly, keeping his voice low. In fact there was no chance of anybody outside the cabin hearing them because contrary to Turgot's predictions, the wind was increasing and the waves were getting rougher.

Rhona shook her head impatiently. "Don't worry about that. Here, take this. When Turgot comes through that tarpaulin, hit him as hard as you can."

She handed him a heavy saucepan. It was among the supplies that were being transported with them to the island.

Arthur hefted his 'weapon'. It was not reassuring him, but there was clearly nothing else.

"As soon as it rains." Rhona told him, "Turgot will come inside. He hates to get wet! We just have to be ready."

She sat back down, put her hands behind her back and wrapped the ropes round and ankles so that it would look as if she was still bound. Arthur stood hunched and ready against the tarpaulin, his improvised weapon in his hands.

As if on cue, the sound of rain was heard splattering down onto the boat.

Rhona had only seconds to flash Arthur a warning look, when the laces on the tarpaulin were pulled apart and Turgot pushed his way through.

Arthur did not hesitate. Before Turgot had time to register, that anything was wrong, he brought the heavy pan down on Turgot's head.

Turgot dropped like a stone.

Arthur was shaking as he stood over the still body of his enemy. Had he killed him? While Turgot deserved to hang for his crimes, it had not been Arthur's intention to end his life there and then.

Rhona on the other hand, wasted no time checking for signs of life. She searched Turgot's person and pulled out a chain on which there was a key. She yanked it over his head and used the key to unlock her metal collar. Once released, she threw it on the floor and then tackled the broach that held the sealskin in place, over his shoulders.

She dragged Turgot away from the cabin entrance and used the scarf around his neck to gag him. Then she bound his hands and feet tightly with the ropes that had been used to bind both herself and Arthur.

It seemed to be done in seconds and then she was cutting and pulling away a section of the rope laces that held the tarpaulin sides of the cabin, in place.

The rain was still hammering down and as Rhona pulled up a section of tarpaulin near the back of the boat, Arthur glimpsed the churning sea outside. Suddenly the idea of trying to swim for freedom seemed hopeless.

But Rhona appeared to understand his unspoken fears. She pushed a length of robe into his hands. "Tie this round your waist" she hissed, "do it!"

Arthur obeyed.

"I will hold the end of the rope and make sure that you don't drown. While you are with me, the sea will not take you. Follow me over the side. We MUST go now!"

With that, she grabbed the seal skin, she had taken off Turgot and slid under the loosened tarpaulin into the sea. Since she had a firm hold of the rope that was tied around Arthur's waist, Arthur had no other choice but to follow her. Praying silently to the god of the sea, Arthur slid head first into the cold water.

He was barely aware of Turgot's men wrestling with the ropes and the sails and the men did not notice the slight splash as two bodies sank into the deep waters below.

Arthur seemed to go down like a stone. He had swum in lakes and rivers as a young boy and he and his friends had practiced diving for objects, many times. He was thus used to swimming and opening his eyes under water. But this was no lake. This was deep and cold and Arthur could see no sign of the bottom.

Trying to orient himself he searched for the light. Immediately in front of him was Rhona. She held the other end of the rope tied around his waist, in her mouth and in her right hand she clung to the seal skin, she had grabbed from Torgot.

To Arthur's amazement, with her left hand, she ripped her dress from her body. Then she twirled in the water wrapping the seal skin around her. Before his eyes she disappeared and in her place was a large grey seal.

Arthur blinked. What had happened to Rhona? The rope was now in the seal's mouth and before Arthur had time to wonder further, he felt himself pulled through the water faster than any human could swim.

But Arthur was no seal. He needed to breath and his lungs felt as if they were bursting, He would drown now, he was sure of it.

As bubbles streamed from his nose, he opened his mouth only to find he was on the surface He had only a few seconds to breathe, but it was enough. Then he was pulled back beneath the churning waves.

As he flashed through the water, Arthur tried to kick his legs but soon realised that it was pointless. His feeble leg movements contributed nothing to the speed of travel and so he concentrated only on holding his breath.

Time and time again he found himself on the surface. The seal just seemed to know when he needed air. But why was this wild creature pulling him through the water towards the shore and where was Rhona?

Both in the snatched seconds when he surfaced and below the water, he looked for her, but she was nowhere to be seen. He was however aware of other shapes swimming beside him, other seals, some small some more than six feet long, but all racing along side Arthur towards a sandy beach.

Arthur lost all fear of drowning. He felt as if he was flying. Had he not known that he was almost certainly being pursued, the whole experience would have been utterly magical.

Then something flashed past his face. It was an arrow. His escape had been discovered. Another arrow followed and then another and Arthur was terrified that one would find its mark.

But taking aim on the deck of a boat being tossed by the wind and waves was an impossible task. Soon enough the arrows ceased to fall, but not before there was blood in the water.

Suddenly Arthur was aware of the bottom coming up towards him and a slowing in the speed with which he was travelling.

As he came to a complete stop he found that he could stand, although the waves continually knocked him off balance and he stumbled rather than walked out of the water.

Beside him, the seal lumbered onto the beach and relinquished its hold on the rope. Arthur undid the rope around his chest and staggered onto drier ground. He was exhausted.

He could see that Turgot's boat and was clearly trying to reach the shore. Fortunately for Arthur its progress was slow as it was forced to tack against a strong south, westerly wind.

Arthur turned his attention back to the beached seal and as he watched, the seal rolled over and its skin seemed to split open. On her knees, on the skin, was Rhona. She rose to her feet and in a few paces covered the space between them.

She took Arthur's face in her hands and kissed him.

"Thank you, for helping me," she breathed. "You have given me back my life."

She looked into his eyes.

"For a man like you, I would leave the sea forever!" She shook her head, "But your heart belongs to your queen. You, I think, are a man who only loves once."

Arthur could not deny it.

"I love her with all my heart," he confirmed, "But you? You should not be thanking me. It is you who has saved me from certain death. I will be forever in your debt."

Rhona's eyes sparkled and for a few seconds she held Arthur in a tight embrace. Arthur's arms wrapped around her body and his fingers felt her silk like skin, marred only by grains of sand.

Never would he have imagined himself holding a naked woman on a freezing windswept beach in the pouring rain. But, strangely it all seemed totally appropriate.

"Are you real?" he asked, releasing her.

"Of course I am real. I am a Selkie. I am both seal and woman. I may choose how I present myself to the world. For all Selkies, the sea is their true home, but for the right man…..or woman, those of my kind can and do choose to live as humans on dry land."

Arthur looked bemused.

"A Selkie. I admit I've never heard of such a thing."

Rhona smiled her stunning smile and her beautiful hair streamed out behind her in the wind. For a moment Arthur could not tear his eyes away She was utterly bewitching and she had saved his life.

Then he realised there was blood on his hands.

"You are hurt," he said, dismayed.

"It's nothing."

She licked her hand and rubbed it over a shallow wound on her side.

"Don't worry, it will soon heal."

"But….

But Rhona allowed him no more time to linger.

"Turgot will be here before you know it. You must get off the beach."

She pointed to a rock shaped like a pointed hat.

"Go to that rock. Behind it, you will see the end of the path that leads up the cliff. It is steep but passable. At the top of the cliff turn right and head to the harbour village of Lynmouth. There is a tavern, The Lonely Mariner. My brother is landlord there. He is married to a human. His name is Sythe. Tell him that I sent you and he will assist you. He will give you dry clothes and help you to get back to Camelot"

Rhona stooped and picked up a small white shell from the beach.

"Give him this as payment and he will know that I sent you. Now go! Do not wait for Turgot and his men to reach the shore."

She turned and ran back to the seal skin. She pulled it up around herself and sinking to her knees, once more transformed into a seal.

With a final look at Arthur, she lumbered back into the water.

Arthur heard one long drawn out wail from the sea and then his saviour disappeared beneath the waves.

Arthur ran up the narrow strip of sand towards the rocks and finding the path began, he began to climb.

The path was very steep and in the rain, also very slippery. Arthur was already exhausted from his dash through the water and it took him all his resolve to keep climbing at a steady pace.

Above him an eagle flew. As it swooped low over the rocky cliffs, it shrieked into the wind and rain.

Not that Arthur noticed. He was totally focused on his climb. Similarly he did he notice the men on horse back, above him on the cliff edge.

If he had, he would doubtless have sought a hiding place, but blind as he was to everything except the steep and dangerous path under his feet, he continued upwards, until finally, he was at the top.

"Arthur!"

He heard his name, shouted and at the same time saw four riders heading in his direction. For a moment he froze, then turned as if to go back the way he had come.

But the voice came again.

"Arthur….it's me, Merlin! Arthur!"

He turned to look for the saviour he had waited and hoped for.

In his haste to reach the horsemen he tripped and almost stumbled to his knees.

But Merlin was already there, leaping from the saddle and reaching for him. He grasped Arthur's arm, staring anxiously into his face, as if to confirm it really was his friend.

For a few seconds they stared at each other. Then Arthur pulled Merlin towards him and hugged him, hard.

As he then held Merlin at arm's length, he almost laughed out loud.

"It's really you! I always thought you would find me and Gawaine and Percival and Leon…..my friends! You have no idea how glad I am to see you.

The knights had dismounted and Arthur hugged them all, but only Gawaine voiced what they were all thinking.

"By all the Gods, Arthur, you look, terrible!"

Leon's eyebrows shot up and he was ready to rebuke his friend for his comment. But Arthur was grinning.

"And I feel every bit as bad as I am sure I look," he told them, "but now, the four of you are here, things can only get better."

Arthur turned to look out to sea and although the sky was darkening, he could still see that Turgot's boat was now getting close to the shore.

"The bastard's coming after me," he said shortly.

He searched his friends.

"You have a sword for me?" he asked. "I will not run from my kidnapper, if I am armed."

Merlin pulled Excaliber from its scabbard.

"I brought this for you. I thought you may need it."

Arthur's eyes lit up and he took his weapon from Merlin's hand.

"My kidnapper has three associates. I don't suppose they have one brain between them, but they are built like warriors. Will you face them with me?"

Percival looked positively delighted.

"Let us at them, Arthur. We have done nothing but search and ride for days. A bit of a 'scrap' is just what we need."

The others agreed, but before they could begin their descent down the path to the beach, the sound of hooves caught their attention.

To a man, they hands went to their weapons, until Merlin recognised a familiar face.

"Porrig! Where did you come from?"

Porrrig dismounted and bowed to his king.

"My Lord, it is so good to see you safe. I have been following the ransom money that was demanded for your release. Gaius, enchanted the gold. He marked it in such a way, that after he had shown me how, I could follow it."

He pointed to Turgot's boat.

"The ransom money, I believe, is out there, on that small boat."

"It bloody well is," confirmed Arthur, "and what's more I don't intend to leave this place until I have every last bit of it in my possession."

He smiled at the Porrig. "You stay here with the horses and all being well, we will see you shortly."

"Please be careful, My Lord," Porrig urged, "the queen is most anxious for your safe return, as are the royal children."

Arthur felt a moment of uncertainty. He had escaped from Turgot. Wouldn't a sensible man cut his losses and get back to his family as quickly as possible?

But he only considered this option for a second or two. Turgot had humiliated him, starved him and in all probability would eventually have killed him. The Lady Faylinn was waiting for a true account of what had happened the day of the picnic and only Turgot could give it to her.

No, Arthur could not run back to Camelot, unless he took with him the man who had nearly destroyed him.

"Don't worry Porrig. I have all the help I need. We will go back down to the beach and take my enemy prisoner. Then we will return to Camelot, together."

Until now, Merlin had remained, silent. Arthur guessed that Merlin would much prefer to leave the enemies on the beach.

But Merlin knew Arthur too well.

"I know nothing I say will deter you from this plan," Merlin said, "but, will you at least let me lead the way? It will be full dark in less than an hour and if you break your neck on the path in the dark, Gwen will break mine! I will light the way."

Arthur shrugged his acceptance. The path had been treacherous enough on the way up. Going down was not going to be any less of a task.

"Lead on, my friend."

Merlin muttered a few words and the path before them, was magically lit with a golden glow. Every obstacle and possible tripping point was clear for all to see and the five men, made their way quickly and safely to the beach.

They stayed hidden behind the rocks, waiting for Turgot and his men to disembark.

Turgot's three henchmen leapt from the boat into the water while it was still waist deep and together pulled the boat closer to shore.

When Turgot himself leapt from the vessel, he almost managed to avoid getting his feet wet at all, but at he landed on the sand, his feet caught in seaweed and he sat back down in the waves.

He let go a string of foul language before getting to his feet and stomping onto drier sand.

He surveyed the dismal beach and shouted at his men.

"Where is that bastard hiding? He must not escape. If there is a path from here to the cliff top, find it! If there is not, then he will be hiding here somewhere.

Don't just stand there, find him, you useless bastards!"

As Turgot's men began to spread out for their search, Arthur stepped out from behind the rocks, brandishing his word. He was closely followed by Merlin and the knights.

Turgot blinked twice, then again as he realised that he was no longer hunting a lone captive. Now from out of nowhere, Arthur had been joined by men, who quite clearly were knights of Camelot. He even recognised one of them.

He swore again and whirled his sword around his head. It was a foolish move because he was still suffering from the blow to the head, he had received earlier and he almost lost his balance. He staggered backwards and rather than terrorising his enemy, only succeeded in looking totally inept and rather comical.

His men came to his side. They looked nervous. One man would have been easy to deal with, but now, they were outnumbered.

"Attack!" shouted Turgot, "Attack! Leave no man standing."

With that he hurled himself towards Arthur. The men followed his orders and soon the sounds of the sea were drowned by the clash of steel.

Merlin did not attempt to fight. He merely stood off to one side watching everything. Despite the occasional bouts of practice swordsmanship with Arthur, Merlin had neither, interest nor aptitude and though he could wield a weapon with moderate skill, magic would always be his weapon of choice, and it was this weapon that he was ready to wield, if it became necessary.

He knew that his friends would rather he did nothing of the kind. They were all men of honour and would want to defeat their enemies in a fair fight. But if he saw any one of them in mortal danger, he could not and would not stand idly by.

Arthur went at Turgot like a man possessed. He had been weakened by starvation and imprisonment, but fuelled as he was by hatred and adrenalin Turgot found himself forced backwards, before a barrage of bone numbing blows.

Turgot's shield took the brunt of them but every time he met Arthur's blade with his own, his arm seemed to vibrate. It was like fighting a mad man.

Frantically, he looked for his men to protect him but each were fighting for their own lives against Arthur's knights. He was on his own.

Turgot felt seawater fill his boots. To his horror, he realised that Arthur had beaten him back to the very edge of the beach and his feet were slipping in the waves.

For a second he considered flinging his sword at Arthur and attempting to swim to safety. But before he had a chance to do anything, a quick flick of Arthur's wrist and Turgot found himself disarmed.

Arthur's boot crashed into his chest and Turgot tumbled into the surf.

Almost at the same time, one of Turgot's men fell to the ground with what looked to be a mortal wound and the other two turned and ran.

Unfortunately there was nowhere to run to. There was only the path, down which their assailants had come and that was far too steep to provide an effective escape route.

Thus, they turned and faced their attackers, with hands aloft and begged for mercy.

The battle such as it was, had taken only minutes and now the five men from Camelot, stood over their captives.

The only man to have been seriously injured in the fight was face down, his blood soaking into the sand.

Merlin glanced at Arthur, "I can save him, if you want."

Arthur nodded his head once and Merlin stooped down and placed his hands over the man's bleeding shoulder. The sound of the wind and the rain, still splattering down onto the beach, drowned out the sorcerer's words, but immediately the blood stopped flowing and the colour began to come back to the man's white face.

"Stand up!" demanded Arthur.

The wounded man struggled to his feet.

"You," Arthur snarled "and your two stupid friends, get back on that boat and disappear. If you EVER set foot on this shore again you will be executed. Do you understand? DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

Turgot's three henchmen opened their eyes wide in amazement. Each one of them had been expecting to be killed on the beach, or taken back to Camelot to be executed.

They nodded frantically and started to hurry towards the boat.

Arthur was right behind them. "But before you leave, you will unload the casket containing the ransom. That money belongs to my people and you will not have it.

"Run!' shouted Turgot, "don't just stand there, you stupid bastards! Run!"

What exactly Turgot had hoped to achieve by shouting this order was anybody's guess, for all he got for his efforts, was a fist to the side of his head. This sent him sprawling into the wet sand.

His men made no attempt to obey his orders, but slunk back towards the boat, the swords of Percival and Gawaine poking them in the back.

One climbed aboard and disappeared under the tarpaulin of the cabin. He emerged carrying the heavy casket. He handed it down to Percival and his two friends began to push the boat out in the deep water

Percival set the casket on the sand and leant his strength to the task of pushing the boat off the beach.

No one had commented on Arthur's decision to free the men, but now he could see the questions in his friends' eyes.

He shrugged, "They did not help take me captive and like all those who live on Turgot's lands, they are the lowest kind of people, scratching a living from the scraps Turgot cares to throw them. No, this is all Turgot's doing….well his and his stupid son."

He grabbed Turgot by his shirt and spoke right into his face. Their noses were almost touching and Turgot flinched, trying to turn his head away.

"So what should I do with you Turgot? Hang you? Cut off your head? Burn you? Answer me? Which traitor's death would you prefer?"

Turgot only tried harder to turn away and he did not speak. He was clearly terrified and expected at any minute to meet his end.

"Come on Turgot," taunted Arthur, "answer me. Answer your King!"

Arthur realised that his friends were all gathered round, watching. They were waiting for him to pass sentence.

"This man deserves to die," Arthur told them, "but I have a use for him yet. We will take him back to Camelot, Turgot and his son and then we will decide his fate. Tie him up and get him onto a horse. Much as I would never want to see that hideous excuse for a castle again, we have to return to Gull Shadow. We have another prisoner to take."

The knights exchanged looks but no-one said anything and hauling Turgot to his feet, they tied his hands in front of him and dragged him up the steep path to where Porrig was waiting with the horses.

Porrig's face lit up with relief, as the men appeared.

Turgot climbed unsteadily on to the spare horse that Merlin had insisted they bring for Arthur and Percival immediately lashed his feet to the stirrups.

"I'll ride with you, Percival," said Arthur. "I think your, Neddy can carry us both as far as Gull Shadow, don't you?"

"Certainly," answered Percival. He had no doubt that his big, strong horse could carry both himself and the King. Arthur looked to be no more than skin and bone.

They rode in silence, the knights wondering if and when their king would explain why he had sort out the mysterious Gull Shadow in the first place. But Arthur said nothing.

It had been dark for more than an hour by the time they reached Turgot's tower. However even though night had come, the tower was fully visible. The thick sea mist, that usually surrounded it, had disappeared.

On seeing it, Arthur shivered involuntarily.

He had promised himself that he ever escaped he would never come back here again. But he could not leave Roldan behind. He was as much to blame for Arthur's incarceration as his father.

In single file, they rode silently down the path to the tower. Porrig let out a low whistle and Tilly neighed softly from the rough outbuilding that harboured both the horses and the boats and was used as the kitchen.

Just as when Arthur had arrived, a pot of some kind of fish stew bubbled over a fire. Arthur remembered the smell and it almost made him gag. Only a day before he would have been desperate to be offered just a spoonful of the mixture. Now it just made him remember the stale bread and rotten apples that had been his only sustenance for so long.

Porrig untied Tilly and led her out. She was filthy, but at least it looked as if she had been fed. Turgot had probably never owned such a fine animal and as such, had made some effort to care for her properly. Porrig gathered the reigns of all the horses and suggested to Arthur that he watch over them and the prisoner, while the rest of them entered the tower.

Arthur looked up at the door.

"That's the only way in or out," he said shortly, "unless we can sneak in through the dungeon."

He frowned. "In my cell there was a window to the outside. I tried for weeks to loosen the bars with my belt buckle. Now Merlin is here, I am sure he can do in seconds, what I could not accomplish in a more than a month."

He sounded disgusted with himself and for the first time the knights noticed that the belt that held up his breeches was knotted. The buckle was gone.

Merlin knelt down and looked into the miserable cell, which had housed his friend. The rain had stopped and the moon was peeping out from behind the clouds. But even with the added light, the cell was still the dank, cheerless place Merlin had seen in his vision.

Merlin directed his gaze at the rusty bars. They glowed white hot and then with a clanging sound, tumbled down into the cell below.

Steeling himself, Arthur dropped down through the opening and waited in the darkness for the others to follow.

The iron gate to the cell had been left unlocked and for that Arthur was glad. Merlin could have unlocked it of course, but a stifling feeling of claustrophobia was pressing in on Arthur and he was anxious to leave this place as soon as he could.

Merlin and the knights were all beside him in a trice and together they crept down the short corridor and up the stairs to the entrance hall of the tower.

It was exactly the same as when Arthur had last seen it.

"The family rooms are on the upper floors," whispered Arthur. "There is but one servant and if he were close by, you would smell him". Arthur sniffed the air, but smelt nothing to make him think that the servant was even in the building.

Silently, they mounted the stairs to the next level. A lone torch burnt in a sconce on the wall and there were the remnants of a meal for one, on the table. However, the room, like the hall below, was empty.

Arthur indicated that they should go on up the next staircase. There was no light here and Merlin put a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"Let me go first, Arthur," he whispered.

But Arthur shook his head angrily. "No, Merlin, this is my problem to deal with and I will go first!"

As they came silently through the opening to the upper chamber, Merlin flooded the way ahead of them with a golden light. Roldan lay on a bed covered by furs and blankets.

The light woke him immediately and he sat up, reaching for his sword. But he was nowhere near quick enough. With a flick of his own blade, Arthur send Roldan's sword crashing to the floor.

"Get up!" shouted, Arthur, his angry voice reverberating off the walls.

Roldan struggled to his feet and backed away. He looked round hopelessly for someone or something to help him, but there was no sign of the filthy servant and all he could see were five armed men, all of whom looked ready to disembowel him.

He fixed his eyes on the stairs, but there was no chance he could escape that way. He dropped his head and waited for a sword to sever it from his neck.

But the blow he had been expecting did not come. Instead he was hauled to the stairs and dragged back down to the cold outside. It was fortunate for him that he had been sleeping in his clothes, for he was given no time to dress.

At sword point he was forced to walk barefoot up the steep path that led to the cliff top. Arthur could see no point in putting any of the horses to the trouble of carrying two men up such a route. The stones cut his feet and although he kept looking at his father for answers, Turgot refused to acknowledge him.

Even when he was tied onto a horse behind Turgot, his father still offered no explanation as to how this catastrophic turn of events had come about.

They rode for two more hours until they reached the top of the line of hills near Dunster. Leon had suggested that they should go to the castle and ask William de Crecy for assistance, but Arthur absolutely refused.

"Look at me," he said pointedly, "I don't even look like a king. It will do no good for any of my subjects to see me in these filthy clothes. No, we must get back to Camelot as soon as possible. I have been gone far too long."

Merlin listened to this exchange and knew that the real reason why Arthur would not go to William. He was beard was unkempt and his hair matted and dirty. From the amount of weight he looked to have lost, Turgot must have fed him on practically nothing. He did not look like a king and right now, he probably did not feel like one either.

"I think its better if we just camp out tonight," suggested Merlin. The rain has stopped and I think Arthur might be glad of the fresh air."

They had travelled as far as the drover's road, which led across the spine of the Quantock Hills. The steps of thousands of beasts had driven a deep cleft into the soil and in some places the road itself was bordered by banks more than six feet high. This meant that the road was largely sheltered from the wind and it was a strangely quiet compared to the wind battered slopes beyond.

In places the road widened and it was in one such place that they decided to make camp for the night.

Turgot and his son were chained to a tree with shackles that had been taken from the Gull Shadow. The irony of this was not lost on Turgot and he slumped against the thick tree trunk wondering how many more days he and Roldan would live.

Every time he looked at Arthur he was filled with anger and jealousy. He should never have kept him prisoner. He should have killed him and disposed of his body, so that no trace of the great king of Camelot would ever have been found.

The knights gathered firewood quickly. It was wet but with Merlin's fire-lighting skills, this was no impediment. In no time they were sitting round a crackling blaze.

They had dried meat with them and cheese and bread. The bread was two days old, so they toasted it, holding it towards the flames on sticks. They also had apples and although these were bruised from travel, they were still in better condition than anything Arthur had been given to eat whilst imprisoned. Nevertheless, Arthur eschewed the fruit and concentrated on the bread and cheese and the dried meat.

He ate ravenously for the first few mouthfuls, but then began to feel sick.

Merlin handed him a metal cup with a liquid in it, he had been warming by the fire. Leaves floated on the surface, leaves that Merlin had gathered whilst the others were collecting wood. It did not look particularly appetising.

"Drink it," Merlin commanded. "It will allow you to eat without feeling sick. You are not used to large amounts of food. Eat slowly or else you will throw everything back up and that will do you no good at all!"

Arthur groaned. He was starving. He wanted to eat his own rations and everyone else's but his stomach seemed to have other ideas. With a sigh, he accepted the cup and sipped the offered drink. It tasted slightly bitter, but it was warming and Arthur's shrunken stomach seemed to protest a little less. When he had finished it, he found he was able to eat a little more bread and cheese, but not nearly as much as he felt he should.

The knights had brought with them, bedding rolls and blankets. They had expected that they would spend many nights on the road and so had come prepared with what little comforts that were available. All the bedrolls were damp, but they still provided a barrier between tired bodies and hard ground and Merlin had thought to bring a spare and as yet unused one, for Arthur.

As Arthur lay down under an ancient oak tree, leaves drifted down from the spreading branches and one brushed against his face. Arthur did not react. Adrenaline had kept him going for hours and now he was so tired, that his eyes closed as soon as he lay down.

He was free! Tomorrow he would wake under the trees and the sky and not in the half light of a stinking cell. It was then that a thought came into his head…..

'Cat'

They would have to go back for the creature, he thought vaguely and then all thoughts ceased as a deep sleep took hold of him.

Merlin took the first watch and as he watched his sleeping king, he thanked the gods that they had found him.

There had been no discussion yet as to how Arthur had been captured nor had Arthur even attempted to explain to either Merlin or the knights why he had sought out Turgot Troelson.

Knowing full well why Arthur had set off, alone, Merlin totally understood Arthur's reticence to engage in conversation about his circumstances. He had come alone to deal with his problem because he was ashamed and now he was even more ashamed that he had had to be rescued.

Merlin wanted to reassure Arthur, to tell him that they all understood what he had done. However it would be better to do that in private and while they were on the road, that would be almost impossible. Nevetheles, the time would come when they would have to have a serious conversation.

Under the tree Arthur stirred, but he was not waking. It was his dreams that were troubling him.

Merlin went and knelt down beside him. He put his hand lightly on Arthur's forehead and murmured words of calm. Immediately, Arthur's tense body relaxed. He sighed in his sleep and pulled his blanket up over his shoulders. Though the fire still blazed, it was cold up here in the hills. Autumn had well and truly arrived and Merlin hated to think what would have happened to Arthur, had he been forced to survive in the ruined castle on the island. He covered Arthur with his own cloak and absently put a hand on Arthur's head. Through Arthur's hair he felt a lumpy scar.

Straight away Merlin's fingers detected the foreign bodies still embedded in the healed wound and he grimaced. Arthur must have suffered greatly as the wound knitted together with fragments of wood still stuck within his flesh. He was lucky the wound had not become badly infected.

Merlin began to murmur enchantments to keep Arthur in a deep sleep. Then he used magic to draw out the large splinters. He closed the wound again and covering Arthur more securely moved closer to the flames and tossed the bloody fragments into the fire. How Arthur had found the strength to defeat Turgot on the beach, the gods alone knew. The exertion however had undoubtedly taken its toll and Arthur would be the weaker for it, when morning came.

When Percival woke to take the second watch of the night, Merlin went first to look for herbs, before taking his rest. Arthur would need more help to be able to eat in the coming days. His starvation rations had shrunk his stomach and it would take time before he would be able to consume enough to build himself back to his normal weight.

They awoke to a fine day and the colours of Autumn blazed all around them in the sunshine. Breakfast was a repeat of dinner bur no one complained and it was agreed that they stop at the next village, big enough to have a market and purchase fresh bread, cheese and hard boiled eggs. Now Arthur was safely back with them, the knights would also have time to hunt. Wild boar roamed the forests and Gawaine had promised them all roast boar for supper.

Porrig did not travel with them. Arthur had asked him to return to Gull Shadow and retrieve his former companion.

"I don't know how you will manage to capture her or carry her back to Camelot, but I would be so grateful if you would try. You have a…..a ….'way' with animals and if anyone can find her and entice her to join us, then it is you, Porrig."

Porrig was slightly bemused by this strange request, although he was not in any doubt that he could accomplish what was being asked of him.

"You say the cat is friendly, My Lord? Why then it will be easy to capture her. I will try and catch up with you before you get back to the citadel."

With that, Porrig rode away, his eagle flying souring overhead.

Merlin looked quizzically at Arthur.

"I forgot something…..something I want to give the children. Foolish…..I know, but if Porrig can bring it, the children will be delighted." Arhur turned away. "I miss them so," he muttered, "and I usually bring them something when I have been away."

Everyone would doubtless think him foolish to worry about the cat, but sometimes he thought that if the creature had not spent its nights guarding him and keeping him warm, he would simply have died in his rotten cell. The animal was more than capable of taking care of herself, but Arthur felt she deserved a kinder life in a far, far better place.

When Porrig did eventually catch up with them, Arthur was delighted to see a furry head peeping out of the top of Porrig's jerkin.

"She doesn't seem to mind being tucked in here," he told the king, scratching the cat's ears, "In fact as long as I let her down to hunt from time to time, she is quite content."

Arthur grinned. He was really beginning to feel like himself again and if all went well they would make Camelot in two more days. When he thought how many days it had taken him to find Turgot's Tower, he could have cried. All these years Turgot had lived barely five day's ride from Camelot.

The weather was still fine when they neared the castle. Night had fallen and it's towers and spires gleamed ghostly white in the moonlight.

"Home!"

The thought went through them all as they caught sight of it.

Arthur allowed his horse to fall back until he was level with Merlin. He lent over so that the others would not hear their conversation.

"Can you get me inside, without anyone seeing me?" he asked.

Merlin could organise such a thing with ease and it was not the first time Arthur had made such a request. Many years previously, when the magic of Avalon had saved Arthur from certain death, he had asked then to slip into the castle, unseen.

That night it had been because Arthur wanted some time alone with Gwen, to recover from his brush with death and fully understand everything that had happened to him. This time Merlin suspected that Arthur's wish to enter the castle in secret, was more to do with his appearance than anything else.

And In truth, he still looked a mess. His frantic swim had cleaned most of the filth from his clothes and his body but had left his breeches and shirt crusted with salt. Percival had leant him a spare shirt, but since the knight had been on the road for many days, even that had not been exactly clean. Percival had washed it out in a stream and dried it over their campfire but it was hardly the kind of linen a king would expect to be seen in.

Leon had insisted that the king take his cloak, but it was brown, not Camelot red. Their mission had been a clandestine one and as such the crimson cloaks, that marked them out as knights of Camelot, had been left behind.

"Leave it with me," Merlin told him. "Pull you hood up."

Then he spoke with the others. "It's better if we get Arthur back inside WITHOUT anyone seeing him. Doubtless there are many who are wondering and asking why he has not been seen for so long and we do not want to excite any more gossip.

Leon, if you announce our arrival with THREE prisoners, I can do the rest."

Arthur fell back, so that he was sandwiched between Gawaine and Percival and Leon led the group up to the great gates into the castle.

He hailed the gatekeeper, who opened a small window to check that those attempting to enter were indeed who they said they were.

His eyes flicked over the familiar faces of the senior knights, Porrig and Merlin. He had no idea who the three captives with them were, but it was not his business to know. He gave the order and one of the great gates swung slowly open.

Arthur held his breath as one of the guards seemed to look straight at him, but there was not a single flicker of recognition in his eyes. Merlin had either enchanted the guards or subtly changed Arthur's appearance…not that of course it would need much changing in its present state. He was pretty sure that it would take any one of the people who worked at the castle, several minutes to equate the thin bearded man in grubby clothes with their King.

In the stables they all parted company, the knights to escort the prisoners to the dungeons and Merlin and Arthur to the family apartments. Porrig immediately set to work unsaddling the horses.

He placed 'Cat' on the floor and she promptly sat down and started washing her paws. He grinned. The cat would be more than happy at Camelot.

At the door to the family apartment, Arthur turned to Merlin.

"I know….don't say anything. There is much to discuss and tomorrow ….or the next day…..we will talk. But for now, please Merlin, I just want to see my family."

Merlin nodded. There would be time later and he would make sure he took that time. He needed to have some serious words with his king. In the meantime, there was Gaius to greet. The old man would have been worrying every single day of Merlin's absence and it would not be fair to keep him worrying a moment longer.

As Arthur let himself into the family apartments, all was silent. A lantern was lit in the bedroom on one of the windowsills and a dim golden light penetrated the shadows. Gwen lay in the big bed, her long curly hair spread in a tangle over the pillows. Even in the low light, there appeared to be dark circles under her eyes, but Arthur had never seen a lovelier sight. He could not wait to wrap his arms around her.

As Arthur approached the bed, he caught sight of his reflection in a mirror.

Gods! It was not a pretty sight. The shadows under HIS eyes looked as if they had been drawn in with charcoal and his cheeks looked sunken under his scruffy beard. He felt dirty and diminished and could not imagine anyone wanting to put THEIR arms around him.

He searched the room for water. There was a jug and a goblet on the table close to the bed and next to them a clean napkin. He dipped the napkin in the jug and with the cold fresh water began to try and clean himself up.

He had barely completed half his task when he heard Gwen's voice.

"Arthur?"

Despite his awful appearance, it seemed she had no trouble recognising him. Before he could turn to face her, she was out of bed and flinging her arms around his neck.

"Oh Arthur, Arthur, where…..what…Oh Gods, you are so thin…..Where have you been? Actually, I don't care where you've been… you're home …you're really home. That's all that matters!"

She held his bearded face in her hands and kissed him over and over again.

"I'm sorry…so sorry…I'm filthy and I've disturbed your sleep. I should have waited till the morning, till I had cleaned myself up…but I just couldn't wait…..just couldn't…"

Gwen hugged him tightly, "D'you think I care that you're dirty? D'you think I would rather try and sleep than know that you are home? If you do, then you're a fool…but you're MY fool."

She was smiling as she spoke and holding him so tightly he thought his ribs might crack. But Arthur didn't care. He didn't care at all. He had dreamt of this moment every night of his incarceration.

Later, Gwen got one of the servants to bring hot water. The fire had been banked for the night but now Arthur added logs to the embers and soon it was burning brightly. Naked, he stood in front of its warming flames and washed away the dirt and grime of his imprisonment and the journey home.

Gwen sat on a chair, with towels ready to dry him. When she saw how his backbone protruded through his skin, she was appalled, but she made no comment. Now he was home she could quickly feed him back to health.

Once he was dry Arthur looked longingly at the bed….a real bed with a feather mattress and clean sheets. But there was something he had to do first.

"I just want to look at the children before we go to bed…..I won't wake them. I just want to see them."

Gwen could not deny him his request. "Well, be very, very quiet," she ordered.

First he looked in on Melora. She slept in a small room off to the left of Arthur and Gwen's bedroom. The door was closed and Arthur lifted the latch extremely carefully, to avoid waking her.

She was lying on her back with a thumb in her mouth. Her other hand was clamped around the neck of her favourite doll.

Arthur crept to her bedside and planted a kiss on her forehead. Gods! It was so good to see his precious daughter again.

Then he crept to the other bedroom which Bo and Merri shared. Once again he lifted the latch as quietly as he could and stood in the doorway looking at his two young sons.

But he had not been quite quiet enough and a sleepy Bo lifted his head off the pillow.

"Who is it?" he asked rubbing his eyes. The candlelight in the main bedroom showed Arthur only in silhouette.

But his little brother was quicker off the mark. As soon as he was disturbed by his brother's voice, Merri was awake.

He took one look at the figure in the doorway and a look of recognition spread over his face, "It's Papa…..it's my Papa!"

He was out of bed in a flash, hurling himself at his father. Arthur bent down and scooped the little boy off the floor.

If anything Merri's hold on his father was even tighter than Gwen's had been and Arthur got down on his knees as Bo rushed to join his brother.

"Where have you been Papa?" demanded Merri, looking into his father's eyes, "we missed you so much."

"Yes, we did," confirmed his elder brother, "we started thinking that you were lost or captured by some horrible bandits or something."

"Yes, yes Papa," continued Merri, "and Bo and I were trying to make a plan so we could go and find you. Where HAVE you been Papa? Were there bandits? Did you fight with them?"

Arthur smiled, wearily "I had to deal with affairs of state. That's all. It just took me a lot longer than I thought it would."

Merri sighed, "And is Merlin back and Porrig and Gawaine and Percival and Leon? Is everyone, home?"

Arthur assured him that they were, but it was not enough to satisfy the little boy.

"You've been gone for ages and ages. WHY do you have to have 'affairs' all the time? We need you to be here and so does Mama. She was crying yesterday, Papa. I saw her. She said she had something in her eye, but she was crying. She really was. I think she was sad because you were away doing affairs for SUCH a long, long, time."

He gave his father a reproachful look and then rubbed his hands in Arthur's beard. "And why are you all….all beardy and….and bony?"

He poked his finger into Arthur's rib cage, to emphasise his point.

At any other time Arthur would have roared with laughter. Merri had a way of getting right to the point and his comments were always amusing. Right now however, they just made him feel sad and he felt tears welling up in his own eyes.

He pressed his sons' curly heads against his shoulders so that they would not see how upset he was.

Bo wriggled away and smiled tentatively at his father. "I am glad you are home, father. I was afraid that if you did not come back, I would have to be king and I don't want to be king…..not now anyway. I have practiced my sword craft every day, erm, well, nearly every day and I have tried to concentrate on my studies, but I'm not ready, father, not nearly ready. I've tried my best to look after Mother and Merri and Melly but …." he sighed, "I don't know if I've really done everything as you would have done. I just…"

His looked away, uncertain and worried.

Bo's serious face nearly broke Arthur's heart. No boy who had only recently celebrated his twelfth birthday, should have to worry about taking on the responsibility of kingship. Arthur sought to reassure him.

"Bo, I am sure no son could have done a better job of looking after the family, than you have done and I am truly sorry that I have been away for so very long. The truth is I had to go and find someone in order to help a lady from the Emerald Isle. I found him, but then I fell ill. For a while I was just too ill to travel. But I am home now and you don't have to worry about a thing. When the time comes you will make a fantastic king, but that time is a long, long way a way. I'll be here for many, many years to come. Please don't worry," he ruffled the hair of both his sons, "either of you. I will always come home. Where else would I want to be? Why, tomorrow your Mother has said we can all have family dinner with Gaius and Merlin and then we can play cards. That's good isn't it, boys?"

The children both grinned happily and Arthur hugged them again.

"We could have dinner right now," suggested Merri.

Arthur quickly laid that Idea to rest.

"It's far too late. Go to sleep now and in the morning you can tell me about everything you have done, while I've been away."

Merri grimaced, "Probably not EVERYthing," he said, eyeing his brother.

Bo frowned at him. They had been in trouble quite a bit since their father's absence and he hoped that their mother would not tell Arthur about all their misdemeanours.

Arthur grinned. "Don't worry boys, I don't need to know everything." He winked at them, "Just the exciting stuff eh?"

His sons smiled back at him and Merri held his fist aloft and threw a handful of stars into the air.

"They are 'happy coming home', stars," he told his father as they twinkled and sparkled before, one by one, disappearing.

As Arthur closed the bedroom door, he couldn't help wondering what his own father would have thought of his grandson. Surely, someone as lively and innocent as Merri could have changed Uther's ideas about magic, completely. How could he not have loved a child so optimistic, loyal and kind as his second son?

Gwen had been watching Arthur with the boys and just like her sons, she was desperate to hear where he had been and how he had got himself into such an unhealthy state. But she saw him look longingly at the bed and realised that he was worn out. What he needed most, was a good night's sleep. There would be plenty of time for questions tomorrow.

She had missed him so much and in the last few weeks had begun to think that she had lost him forever. But now he was finally home. She knew him and she loved him. Arthur was a man of honour, who loved his family. He would never have left them alone for so long, if it had been within his power to come home to them sooner.

So she took his hand and led him to the bed. He lay back against the pillows and held out his arms.

When Arthur awoke the following day, for a few moments he just lay in his comfortable bed taking in his surroundings. Weak light was filtering through a gap in the curtains and a shaft of sunlight lit up Gwen's sleeping face. He sighed. It was so good to be home. He threw an arm up over his head and revelled in the comfortable feeling of the over stuffed pillows. He had never really appreciated just how nice pillows actually were, nor sheets, nor blankets for that matter. It was all just delightfully pleasant.

But then he remembered all the things he had to do, all the people he had to speak to and some of the edge was taken from his happiness. He leaned over and kissed Gwen's cheek. She smiled sleepily. Gwen had not a good night's sleep for weeks and just knowing that Arthur was home meant that she could finally relax.

"You getting up?" she mumbled.

Arthur kissed her lips.

"I must, my love. So many things to do, but you stay here and rest."

Gwen sighed and her eyes closed.

Arthur sat up and swung his feet onto the floor. He rolled his head and stretched his shoulders. For the first time in ages, he did not ache all over.

From his dressing room, Arthur could hear familiar sounds. Someone must have told his manservant, George, that he was home. George would be laying out his clothes and sorting out the breakfast things.

Breakfast! There would probably be sausages, ham, fried mushrooms, warm rolls and George's special mulled wine. Arthur's stomach growled.

He hurried to the dressing room and threw open the door.

"Morning George!"

George's face was a picture of happiness.

"Oh My Lord, it is so good to have you back. I have a hot bath here ready for you and all your favourites for breakfast. The fresh rolls will be up from the kitchen shortly." He bowed low and Arthur sighed, happily.

George had taken over Merlin's old position. He hero-worshipped Arthur and nothing was too much trouble for his master. Once Arthur had mocked George because of his bad jokes and his obsession with polishing things, but now Arthur had truly come to appreciate this kind, thoughtful young man.

"It all sounds wonderful, George. I'll have my bath straight away and if you don't mind, a cup of your delicious mulled wine."

As always, any compliment from Arthur made George's face light up. He busied himself pouring the wine, but his smile faded when he saw caught sight of Arthur's now prominent rib cage.

He immediately rethought his breakfast offerings. He had not organised nearly enough food.

"I'll just pop down to the kitchen for a few more things and if you just put on your dressing gown, when you've finished with the bath, I just need to get a button sewn on your breeches. I'll not be long."

George seized the breeches he had laid out for the king and hurried to find his mother. She was an excellent seamstress.

He held up the breeches and estimated just how much they needed to be taken in. One pair would do for now, he thought. He could get others altered later.

When George returned to the family apartment, Arthur had already demolished the plate of sausages, ham and mushrooms, which George had left to keep warm by the fire. Nevertheless, Arthur's eyes grew large, as George put down a plate of fresh bread rolls with a huge chunk of cheese and a slab of butter. Merlin's potions on the journey home had finally allowed Arthur to eat properly, without suffering for it. He had his old appetite back and was more than happy to indulge it.

"Wonderful, George, wonderful! I'll get dressed as soon as I've eaten those."

While Arthur ate, George hovered silently in the background, his hands clasped behind his back.

After a few minutes he cleared his throat.

"Yes. George?"

"Erm, My Lord, I was wondering if you would like me to give you a shave….erm, Sire, maybe trim your hair and beard a little…..bit…. or not of course….. if you don't…."

"Actually, George, I think that would be a really good idea."

Now properly clean, Arthur's hair was restored to its usual golden colour, but his beard was still scruffy and unkempt.

However, as George carefully cut Arthur's hair, which now fell below his collar, he began to think that keeping the beard for a while might be a good idea. It would help disguise the king's very obvious weight loss and stop people speculating about his health.

"Erm, My Lord, I was just …just um thinking that the beard actually quite suits you. It makes your face look a little fuller…not fat….never that, but fuller in er…um… a good way."

Arthur immediately realised what his manservant was thinking and told George that if he thought the beard suited him, then he would try it for a while.

George breathed a sigh of relief. It really wasn't his place to even suggest how the king should wear his hair or beard, but Arthur really did look, as if he had not been at all well, while he had been away from Camelot.

Arthur had not given much thought to the fact that his clothes might not fit him, after his imprisonment, but as he tugged up his breeches, he did wonder if it would look as if he was wearing someone else's clothes.

However, Arthur found that his breeches fitted him more or less as they had always done. He pulled his shirt on over his head and tucked the excess fabric into the waistband. Not too bad, he thought, catching sight of himself in the mirror.

George had a purple velvet jacket ready on the chair but he handed Arthur another garment first. "The weather has definitely taken a turn for the worse, My Lord. There's a real chill in the air and it would probably be better if you wear this padded jerkin under your jacket.

It will keep you warm, Sire," he added, rubbing his hands together, as if to emphasise his point.

Of course what it was actually doing, was making sure that Arthur's jacket still looked as if it fitted him.

Arthur did as George suggested and when he looked at himself in the mirror, it was as if the past weeks of starvation had never happened. He looked pretty good.

He patted George on the shoulder.

"Thank you, George. I've really missed your services while I was away. I was rather ill, while I was in the north, but now I feel absolutely splendid."

George positively glowed with pride. "May I say Sire, that you look absolutely splendid too and it is SO good to have you back."

There was a knock and Gwen poked her head round the door.

"There is a small person who is absolutely desperate to see you. Do think you can spare a moment?"

Before Arthur had time to respond, 'the small person' in question barged past her mother and ran up to her father.

Arthur picked up his daughter and sat down on a chair with her on his lap. Just like Merri, she immediately commented on his beard.

"You're all furry Papa. Just like a doggy!"

"Why thank you for that nice compliment. You like my beard then, do you."

Melora stroked his face. "Furry," she said again and then, "Why have you been gone for such a long time. I didn't like it. I didn't like it at all."

She made a cross face and pouted at him.

"Neither did I, sweetheart, but I can promise you I won't be going anywhere else for a long time. Now be a good girl and go to Mama. I just have a few things I need to do, but then I will come and find you and tonight we will all have dinner together and play some games."

Melora beamed, but she clung to her father as if she was afraid he would be taken from her. In the end Gwen had to peel her off and a grateful Arthur was able to go and deal with the first thing on his list of things, he had to do that day.

As he walked down the shadowed corridor that led to the cells, which housed Turgot and his son, he reflected on how completely the tables had been turned. It felt good to be back in control again and he was eager to bring to an end, this dismal chapter of his life.

Turgot looked as dejected as Arthur imagined he had done, when Turgot had first visited him in his horrible cell. Turgot however, was not starving or drugged and when he saw Arthur approaching, he scowled.

"Come to mock, have you? Well do your worst. Had it not been for that damned creature, you would never have escaped."

"I have thanked the gods every day that she was there to help me. You had no right to keep her as a slave. Slavery is forbidden in Albion. No man can 'own' another."

"She is not 'human'!" Turgot snarled. "She's just an animal. She has no more rights than a dog!"

Arthur glared at his prisoner. Turgot really was a disgusting excuse for a man.

"If I were you, I would have a care before you open your mouth again. You are MY prisoner, now.

In a moment I will now bring Faylinn here to talk to you. You will tell her the truth. If you try and do anything else you will suffer for it. Merlin will be listening…..Merlin, the man you call my 'tame wizard'. Know this, Turgot, he is more powerful than you could ever imagine. If you lie, you will experience pain, the like of which you have never felt before and he won't even have to touch you. Do I make myself clear?"

Turgot sneered. "I understand, so get it over with. Let me tell that stupid woman the good news. I am sure she will be very happy."

Arthur's eyes flashed in anger.

"I have warned you, Turgot. You have no cards left to play. The TRUTH is what you will tell, Faylinn, the truth and nothing else. After that, I will decide your fate"

Faylinn was in her room, pacing the floor. News that the king had returned, had reached her, via the servant who had delivered her breakfast. Now her stomach was churning and she had eaten nothing.

When she heard the knock on the door, she started and her hand flew to her chest. Her heart was beating so fast, she felt as if she could barely breathe.

"Come in." Her voice sounded shaky and hoarse.

Arthur strode into the room and Faylinn dropped into a curtsey.

"My Lord, it is so good to see you. You…y…you have news?'

"I do indeed. Turgot Troelson is in the castle dungeons. He is guilty of many crimes, but for now, he needs do only one thing. He needs to tell you the truth about what happened on the day of the picnic. I fear you will not be pleased with what he has to say."

Faylinn swallowed hard. "Will I come with you now, my lord?"

Arthur nodded. 'Follow me."

As they hurried down to the cells, Arthur wondered if he should have Merlin on hand, just in case Turgot decided to cause more trouble, by trying to twist or bend the truth. He had threatened Turgot with Merlin's powers to make sure that Turgot would be too afraid to lie, but he had not yet told Merlin the whole sorry story. He would tell him. There was no way to avoid it, but just for the moment, he hoped he could oversee Turgot's confession on his own.

As soon as they started down the steps to the dungeons, Faylinn slowed almost to a complete stop,

"Don't be afraid," said Arthur, suddenly feeling sorry for her. "He and his son are the only prisoners. No-one will hear Turgot's confession, but you and me. The guards have been sent to the guardroom. Turgot is shackled and behind bars. He can do nothing to hurt you."

Faylinn took a deep breath. She approached Turgot's cell slowly and stood a good four feet away from the bars. Turgot had been waiting and now he appraised her coldly.

"So…here you are, after all these years and it seems your looks have not deserted you."

Arthur gave Turgot a warning glare and the captive immediately turned himself to the matter in hand.

"You want to know what happened on the day of the picnic? I'll tell you. You and Arthur drunk far too much of my delicious potion. My sister had hoped to have some fun with Arthur, but all she got were a few kisses. After that he lapsed into a stupor and lay on the grass marvelling at the colour of the leaves. You were similarly affected but since you needed to do no more than lie there," he shrugged, "I 'enjoyed' the afternoon." He stared into Faylinn's worried face, "I don't need to spell it out, do I?"

Faylinn's bottom lip quivered. She was obviously on the verge of tears.

"You wonder if your son could be mine? I doubt it. I have enjoyed the company of many women, but to my knowledge I have sired neither son nor daughter. The boy, who thinks he is my son, came to me with his mother. Though he thinks I am his father, I'm afraid he is someone else's bastard and his mother is long dead."

He shrugged, "So on balance, I would say your son is your husband's. Now go away and leave me in peace. I will doubtless be dead tomorrow and you can forget you ever knew me.

Don't just stand there, woman. Go away! I am a dead man!"

Faylinn turned and ran back to the stairs. Arthur cursed at Turgot and followed her.

In the corridor above, she turned to face Arthur.

"Forgive me. Forgive me for ever accusing you of….of….. You were just so ready to take the blame. You promised to marry me. All these years, I have thought that if my son was conceived before my wedding night, at least his father had been a person of honour. Now I find that I have been much mistaken. I am so sorry."

Arthur forced a smile.

"It's not your fault," he said patiently, "we were both fooled by him. And remember what he said. The chances are that your son IS your husband's. The best thing you can do is just try and put all this behind you. Gather your belongings and I will send you back to the Emerald Isle with an escort of knights to keep you safe on your journey. Your son will be waiting for you and all will be well"

Faylinn clutched Arthur's hand and kissed it.

"I never forgot you and I never will. Thank you for everything."

With that, she hurried away to pack her things and Arthur went to instruct the garrison commander to organise an escort, to see her safely back to her home.

Arthur then turned his thoughts to Turgot and the young man who thought himself Turgot's son. What was he to do with them, now that they were his prisoners? In law they were both guilty of treason, but could Roldan really be responsible for his actions? On the road back to Camelot, Turgot had exchanged barely ten words with the young man.

On a whim, Arthur went back to the dungeons. He ignored Turgot and went further down the corridor to the cell, occupied by Roldan.

The young man looked utterly wretched. When he saw Arthur peering at him through the bars, he asked, "When will I die? Today?"

"You are guilty of treason because you kidnapped your king and yet….I think you have been as ill used by Turgot, as many others have been. You doubtless heard that Turgot is not even your real father?"

Roldan nodded and sighed. "He never treated me like a son, never appeared to care for me. I tried to please him but whatever I did, it was never enough. And now I am to die because of something I did for him."

Columb hung his head and turned away.

Then Arthur surprised himself. He found that he could not bring himself to take this young man's life.

"Turgot will hang tomorrow. He will die as he lived, without honour. You, however….will not die. I will give you a choice. Banishment or a position in the castle guard. I will return for your answer this evening."

Roldan stared at the king, open mouthed, "My lord, I will live? I…I..do not know what to say."

"Make your choice by sunset," said Arthur.

Arthur's next task was strangely the one he had been dreading. He must go to Merlin and explain his actions. He just knew that Merlin would be angry and he supposed, with good reason.

Merlin had devoted all his adult life to being Arthur's protector and advisor. As far as he was concerned, he was all that stood between Arthur and the dark magic that would seek to destroy him. By leaving Camelot, alone, Arthur had made it impossible for Merlin to carry out his responsibilities and Merlin would not only be angry, but Arthur suspected, hurt as well.

Normally, Arthur would find Merlin in the chamber of the Court Physician. Although Merlin had his own sumptuous apartment, more often than not, he slept in the tiny room off Gaius's chamber, the room in which he had slept when he had been Arthur's manservant. Nevertheless, Arthur sought out his friend in his apartment first. If he could avoid it, he did not want to tell his story in front of Gaius.

Maybe Merlin had read Arthur's thoughts, for Merlin was sitting in front of the fire, as if he was just waiting for Arthur to visit. On the table, at his elbow was a flagon of mulled wine and two goblets.

As Arthur walked into the room, Merlin poured wine into both goblets and offered one to Arthur.

Arthur took the wine gratefully. Warm drinks were still a novelty to him and outside the weather was very definitely autumnal. There had been frost on the grass earlier and Arthur had found himself imagining what it would have been like in Turgot's dungeon.

"May I sit?" he asked.

"Of course. We need to talk."

Arthur sunk into a chair opposite Merlin. Where to start? There was so much to say.

Once again as if reading his thoughts, Merlin took pity on him.

"I know why you went. I spoke to the Lady Faylinn and forced her to tell me the reason for her visit to Camelot. Apparently she was only going to ask you for help, no more than that. Unfortunately she met with Morgana and it was she who forced Faylinn to make more demands, to try and persuade you that her son was yours."

Arthur's eyes opened wide in alarm. "Morgana? Here in Camelot? Gods! Gwen, the children, Morgana could have…"

He stopped in mid sentence, "You KNOW why Faylinn was here? Why didn't you tell me you knew? How many others know? By all the gods, does Gwen know? For pity's sake, Merlin, you could have said something before now!"

Merlin pursed his lips. "I didn't want to discuss such things while we were on the road. There was little or no chance of getting you on your own, although to be fair, Gawaine, Percival and Leon all know the reason for your disappearance."

Arthur scrubbed his hands through his hair.

"Oh that's just wonderful!

"Arthur, I heard you calling for me. I heard you and when I looked for you, with magic, all I could 'see' was your prison cell…..just an indistinct image of you, quite evidently ill and somewhere cold and dark. Gawaine and Percival had returned with Gwen and the children and all were worried sick. Not one word had they received from you and yet still you had not returned to Camelot.

Leon had travelled North, overseen the council, alone, without any input from you and returned with a report and no one to give it to.

Can you imagine how worried they all were? We had to put our heads together to try and find out where you might have gone. You are the king, Arthur, the most important person in this land and yet you had just disappeared.

Oh, I know you SAID you were going to Ealdor and then on to the council, but when it became obvious that after Ealdor you had simply vanished, do you really think that any one of those closest to you would not be doing their level best to find you?

We asked questions and Porrig told me of Lady Faylinn. I questioned her and she had no option but to tell me the truth and I told the others….no, NOT Gwen. It was too personal for me to tell her the details, but Gawaine, Percival and Leon? They are your dearest friends and they would go to the ends of the earth to find you. There was no point in me giving them half truths and lies. We needed to work together, to try and find out where you might have gone. Not one of them believed that you would have done anything wrong, even if you were drugged and like me, all they cared about was finding you. And that was a hard task.

Turgot's tower was concealed by magic. At first I thought Turgot himself must have magic, but then I saw you with the selkie on the beach. She must have called up the mists, which kept the tower concealed. I presume that as Turgot's slave she had no choice. All I knew, was that when I looked for you, your location was hidden from me by magic…..magic from the sea."

"But you still found me."

"I found a button, that's all! That was the first hint that we were heading in the right direction. We just happened to get to the coast in time to see you escaping from Turgot's boat. It was pure luck that we were on the cliff to see you and the selkie come ashore.

Don't you understand, Arthur? Even with magic, we would have found the tower too late. We would have found your prison cell, only to find you gone. Gods, have you any idea how worried I was? How worried everyone was! It's damn lucky the children are still so young, or they would surely have realised that something was seriously wrong. What were you thinking? Why didn't you ask for my advice?"

Arthur put his head in his hands.

"I was going to tell you. I was going to ask for your advice. Of all people, I knew I could trust you to help me. But the very moment I was going to speak with you, you got the news of your mother's illness. What could I do? Hunith is your only living relative. How could I delay you from rushing to her side?"

"Arthur, Arthur, I think you are forgetting something. What did I ask for, that day…..that day when I thought you had died…..that day when I laid your body in a boat at the Lake of Avalon and thought you dead? When the powers of Avalon reunited your spirit with your body, what did I ask for?"

"You asked that you could always call me 'Arthur' and not 'My Lord' or 'Sire'. You asked that I would treat you as my brother."

"Exactly! I asked that you treat me as your brother. And what does that mean? It means we are family. It's not just me and my mother, any more. You are my brother and your children my nephews and niece. Gwen is my sister. You are ALL my family. If any of you are in danger, then all I care about is making you safe. You could have told me of your plight as I went down to the stables. You could have ridden with me towards Ealdor….."

"That's not fair! You insisted I should NOT come…"

"You wouldn't have needed to come the whole way. No horse can go at full gallop, even half the way to Ealdor. We could have talked, as we rode. I could have given you the benefit of my advice. We could have made a plan together. God's sake Arthur, you gave me that stupid title, 'The King's most Special Advisor' so at the very least you should have asked me for my advice!

Or did you just pull that title out of a hat…just anything to give me a bit of status?

"No! No I did not! I've told you before. I spent years thinking you were an idiot, but once I realised how wrong I was, I wanted it to be clear to everyone. I need your advice in all things. I just didn't want to delay you. I couldn't talk to Gwen, because she wasn't here and in any case, half of me didn't want to have to involve her at all, especially if, in the end, Faylinn's claims came to nothing. But I can assure you, if dear Hunith had not been ill, I would have spoken to you. I would have asked for your help."

Merlin's gaze softened a little. Maybe on this occasion, he should not be berating Arthur so strongly. Even in a time of extreme anxiety, Arthur 's first thought had been to put Merlin's needs before his own.

"I'm sorry. I do understand why you said nothing, but please, NEVER go off on your own without telling someone where you are going. You are the light in this world, Arthur and your responsibilities will continue long after Camelot has been reduced to rubble. You are the once and future king. This land needs you and my job is to protect you and make sure that you endure. And you're my friend…..my best friend. We are brothers, Arthur and in this uncertain world, we must stick together."

Arthur put his head on one side, a half smile on his lips.

"Half of what you say makes absolutely no sense to me," he complained. "'The once and future king'! What does that mean?" He held up his hand, "No, don't bother to try and explain it. I'm sure YOU know what you mean.

In your weird little world, I'm sure you know what you're talking about. But," he paused, his face more serious for a moment, "Just let me say that to me, you ARE my brother and I promise I will never go off again without telling someone where I am headed. Happy now?"

Merlin grinned, "Yes."

"Apart from anything else, it was extremely boring riding about the country on my own. Gods, I even found myself wishing for Gawaine's endless chatter!' He made a face, "That is seriously pathetic, is it not? I even missed you nagging me all the time!"

Merlin tried not to laugh. But then he asked a serious question.

"So will you tell Gwen…..tell her the whole story, I mean? Leon, Gawaine and Percival will tell no one. You can rely on them, so if you wish it, you can tell Gwen any story you like."

Arthur looked Merlin straight in the eye.

"I will tell her the truth. I have nothing to hide and if she had been in Camelot, when Faylinn first arrived, now I come to think about it, I would have told her then and there. We have no secrets. I thank you and the others however for allowing me to be the one to tell her the whole, sorry tale. It will be better coming from me. In fact, I think I will go and tell her right away. Porrig is teaching Melora to ride and the boys are at their lessons, so I have a moment's peace in which to explain myself."

He made a face and Merlin tried to lighten the mood.

"Just one thing, before you go. I seem to remember you mocking me about the fact that on one occasion, I had to be rescued by a girl. You seemed to think that death would have been preferable to the shame of having a lady come to my aid. Well, forgive me for pointing this out, but wasn't your 'rescuer' a girl?"

Arthur protested vigorously.

"She was not a 'girl'! She was a bloody great big seal and even when she was masquerading as a lady, she was taller than me and built like a blacksmith!"

Merlin smirked. "Arthur, I saw her from the cliff top. She MAY have been NEARLY as tall as you, but she was NOT built like a blacksmith. In fact she was very beautiful, VERY 'girly', I would say. Very 'girly' indeed."

"Oh very good, Mr eagle eye! I don't see how you can possibly have seen her properly from so far away!"

"Really Arthur…really?.

Arthur gave in. "All right. She WAS pretty and she smelled really nice too…..sort of like rain and clouds and fresh air…. but if you so much as mention either of those facts to Gwen, I will personally cut your balls off, one by one with a very blunt knife. You will be casting spells in a very high voice!"

Merlin burst out laughing.

"You'd have to catch me first," he said, backing away. "But fear not. I will not tell Gwen that you were seen kissing a beautiful, naked woman on a beach in the rain. You can tell her yourself."

Arthur looked at him in mock horror. "What and risk putting my own balls in jeopardy? I think not. No, my annoying little sorcerer friend, the beauty of my saviour will remain our little secret. If anybody asks, she was big and strong with grey hair…..well actually the colour of pewter and very shiny and sort of silky… BUT we'll just say 'grey'. I think we can agree on that, don't you?"

Merlin was laughing too hard to answer, so Arthur grabbed him in a headlock and scrubbed at Merlin's messy hair till it looked like a bird's nest.

"Are we in agreement?" demanded Arthur, now laughing as hard as his friend.

"Yes, yes! Release me!"

Arthur let go.

"By all the gods, it's good to be home!"

He thumped Merlin on the arm, gave him a rough parting hug and headed towards the door, but not without a last word.

"I have to say, Merlin, I WAS a bit disappointed that I had to be rescued by a female! I mean really, Merlin, a female had to rescue me while you were still riding aimlessly along the coast. I think you'd better practice that magic a bit more, don't you?"

As he slipped through the door, Merlin hurled a cushion after him.

Arthur went straight back to the royal apartments. It was not fair to keep Gwen waiting any longer for an explanation, as to where he had been and more importantly, why he had been away so long.

Gwen listened to him without interrupting. At times she looked surprised and often she looked sad, but at no time did Arthur see any sign that she might be disappointed in him. In fact it was the exact opposite.

When he had finished his tale she came over to him and put her arms around his neck.

"I am so sorry that you thought that I wouldn't understand. You did nothing wrong, Arthur, nothing at all. You couldn't have known that Turgot was going to drug you and you certainly could not be expected to be responsible for anything that happened while you were under the influence of those drugs. But despite that, what makes me proud of you, is that you were prepared to take responsibility for everything, just to give poor Faylinn some peace. In her place I would have been terrified and to have had someone like you, stand up and promise to help me, would have been such a relief.

I am glad that Columb is not your son, because it could have caused complications. But we know the truth now and so you have no need to worry."

Arthur took Gwen in his arms.

"I'm so sorry I left Camelot without telling you where I was going. If you had been at the castle, it would have been different. But I saw a chance, a chance to sort everything out on my own. I didn't want to worry anyone, unless it was absolutely necessary."

Gwen kissed him warmly, for a long time and Arthur felt all his worries finally drift away.

When the princes had finished their studies, they both went to find their father. Having missed him for so long, they were both anxious to spend some time with him.

As they walked towards the royal apartments, they met Arthur coming towards them with Melora on his shoulders. He grinned at them.

"I was on my way to find you, boys. Melora and I are going down to the stables. Come with us. I have a new friend to introduce you to."

The children were all intrigued and even more intrigued when there appeared that there was no one in the stables but Porrig and one of the grooms.

"Porrig!" Arthur called out cheerfully, "Is my furry friend around?"

"My lord, she is indeed. This way," he held out his hand, inviting them further into the stable block. In the corner of the tack room, where a beam of sunlight filtered through a dusty window, Cat was lying comfortably in the sun.

Arthur lifted Melora over his head and put her on the floor.

Then he squatted down and held out his hand.

"Hallo Cat. I've brought my children to meet you. Will you come and say hallo?"

Alerted to the sound of a voice she recognised, Cat lifted her head and blinked her orange eyes.

She made a kind of chirruping noise and stood up stretching her back. Then she wandered up to Arthur and pushed her wide face into his hand.

Arthur scratched her ears and smoothed her fur. She purred happily.

"This," he told the children, "is my friend, Cat. While I was away I was rather ill and I used to get very cold at night, even with my covers on. Cat would come and sleep with me every night and keep me warm. We became such good friends, I thought I should bring her home to live with us. What d'you think?"

The children, all animal lovers, were delighted. They gathered round stroking Cat, who patiently accepted even Melora's enthusiastic pats without complaint.

"She doesn't scratch at all," said the little girl, delightedly. Melora had fallen foul of several of the castle cats, none of whom appreciated Melora's attempts to stroke them."

"No she doesn't. She's just a very friendly cat who likes to be stroked."

"So," said Merri, "she slept on your bed? In your actual bedroom?"

"Er, yes," agreed Arthur, not wanting to remember his 'actual bedroom' at all.

"So she can sleep on our bed's then, can't she," concluded Merri, happily.

Arthur wasn't sure what Gwen would say to that, but he knew that Merri had made up his mind. If his father had been allowed an animal in the bedroom, then he was not going to be told that he could not do the same.

By the end of the day, a tiny doorway had been carved into the main door to the royal apartments and others into the children's bedrooms. Gwen who had heard the real part Cat had played in keeping Arthur alive, was only to happy to allow the animal to join the family.

That night, the Pendragons, together with Gaius and Merlin gathered for a private dinner. Despite the disapproval of the head cook, Gwen had personally made an apple pie, although in deference to the fact that Arthur had practically lived off apples, she had added dried fruits and spices. Everyone remarked that it was one of the best pies ever and as the last slice disappeared, Merii excused himself to collect the playing cards.

With the plates cleared away, Bo dealt.

"Remember," said Arthur, looking pointedly at Merri and Merlin, "no cheating!"

Merri pouted, "But it's more fun that way," he said.

Arthur ruffled his hair.

"Yes it is….for you and Merlin, but it means the rest of us don't have a chance."

Merri thought for a minute. "So do you think magic is a bit…erm..bad?" he asked.

"Of course not."

"But I met someone who said that magic used to be ill…..illegal. Is that true?"

Merlin raised his eyebrows and Arthur scratched his head.

"It WAS illegal, but that was a long, long time ago. Your grandfather did not have a…a 'Merlin' so he was afraid of magic. That's why he made it illegal. But its not now, so you don't have to worry."

Merri frowned. "But weren't some magic people….killed?"

Arthur could not deny it.

"Yes, yes, very sadly they were. But I have changed all that. Everyone who uses magic for good, is welcome in Camelot."

"Everyone? Even people who were magic before you changed it?"

"Yes, everyone."

Merri looked relieved. "Good," he said, "There was a lady here and she said that no one liked her when she used to live in Camelot, because she had magic. If I ever see her again, I'll tell her she can come back and stay and no one will be nasty to her ever again."

Merlin had a sudden vision of Merri holding a woman's hand. Merri was such an open and trusting child, it was easy for Merlin to read his thoughts.

The woman turned and smiled and Merlin sucked in a breath.

"Merlin, come on. It's your turn."

It was Arthur speaking. Merlin glanced down at his hand and laid a card. He would not spoil this evening by revealing that Morgana had dared to come to Camelot. There would be time for that later… later when he had cast enchantments that would prevent the witch from ever getting inside the citadel again.

Far away Morgana Pendragon turned over in her sleep. She was having a nightmare. Merlin stood before her, his hand outstretched, holding a sword.

She awoke with a start, shivering and afraid. As she tried to calm herself, she made a vow.

Just as soon as she regained all her old powers, she would raise an army and attack Camelot.

She belonged there. It was her home and she WOULD return.


End file.
